


Protected

by sarai377



Series: Protected [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alpha Chrom, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Knotting, M/M, Non-con mentioned, Omega Robin, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarai377/pseuds/sarai377
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin has always assumed he is just a beta - until he goes into his omega heat, shortly after Gangrel is defeated and peace has returned to the realm. But Chrom is away on business… and he's the only alpha that Robin wants to mate with. </p>
<p>Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, knotting, rough sex. </p>
<p>mRobin/Chrom</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be slight references to non-consensual or dubious consent, but that is to be expected with almost any alpha/omega fic. There is no rape in this story.

Chapter 1

_“Look, Lora, is that who I think it is?”_

_"The tactician!”_

_“He’s okay, thank Naga!”_

The excited whispers burst from the next aisle, and Robin freezes, his finger tracing the spines of the books.

 _Please, don’t come around the corner_ , he thinks. _Just leave me alone._ He doesn’t think he can take much more gawking today. But he straightens anyway, and beside him, Chrom gives him a little smile and a shrug, holding the books Robin has already gathered.

The two whisperers peek around the corner, and their eyes widen. Both boys, in their mid-teens, are dressed in fine clothing that speaks of an upper class upbringing. Both are betas, he can tell, his discerning eye able to identify them at a glance.

“P-prince Chrom!” the taller one squeaks, and sketches a hasty bow. The shorter one follows suit a second later.

“Good afternoon,” Chrom greets with an elegant smile. Chrom probably feels as uncomfortable as Robin does with all the attention, but he puts on a cultured front. He was raised to be a prince, and although sometimes that poise doesn’t come through, today he looks and acts the part.

“Good afternoon, Prince Chrom,” the taller one responds, keeping his eyes down. If they boys were alphas, they might stand more alert, meet Chrom’s eyes directly. But they are betas, and they look to Robin instead. As a beta himself, he is less likely to lose his temper or grow aggressive. Chrom doesn’t lose his temper often, but when he does, it is usually in defense of his family and companions. “Lord Robin, we’re sorry to disturb you.”

“It’s no problem,” he says, and forces a smile. Robin has a feeling if Chrom wasn't with him, he might have been pestered with questions. He glances to Chrom, whose smile spreads.

“It was nice to meet you both,” the tall boy says, and pulls the quiet one back around the bookshelf.

Robin sighs, turning his attention back to the bindings. The sooner he can find the book he is looking for, the sooner he can retreat to his room.

The whispers continue, perhaps more excited than before.

_“Did you see the prince?”_

_“He’s so regal, just as Father said he was_ ,” the second one answers.

_“And the tactician is looking much healthier.”_

_”This is the best day ever!”_

Robin’s face burns as his finger pauses in its sweep. Chrom leans closer to tease, “You _are_ looking much less pale.”

Robin’s mouth twitches in annoyance - why can't everyone just forget about that little incident from three nights ago? But Chrom looks genuinely cheerful for the first time in a while, so Robin tries to let the embarrassment go. He hasn’t seen Chrom this happy since... before Emmeryn. Robin’s mood darkens, and he scans the shelf faster now.

When Chrom informed the Ylisseans of Robin’s involvement in ousting the Plegians from the capital, they started treating Robin as another member of the royal family. Robin doesn’t feel worthy of their admiration, especially not after his plans had gotten their former Exalt killed little more than a month before, but Chrom was insistent. And even Robin knows when to pick his battles with the headstrong alpha... and when to back down.

“Ah,” he exclaims, as he locates the book. With relief, he draws the heavy tome from the shelf and holds it in both hands, studying the cover for a moment. It is an extended treatise on peacetime militias, something that Robin believes will come in handy soon. “This is it, let’s go.” He turns enthusiastically and nearly bumps into Chrom, who he forgot was hovering right beside him.

Chrom’s hand shoots out to catch his elbow, and Robin draws a hasty breath. It smells like Chrom, that wonderful mix of sword oil and the unique, indescribable scent of his skin - and _alpha._ Even though Robin is just a beta, he still reacts to Chrom’s scent. He is suddenly very aware of Chrom’s touch, even through the sleeve of his cloak. Chrom’s chest expands slightly as he breathes in, and then Robin is looking into his blue eyes. With another quick breath, Robin’s body relaxes a bit, swaying toward Chrom.

“Be careful,” Chrom chides, and releases Robin’s arm when he stops swaying.

The alpha prince is fiercely protective of his close friends and family, and he has taken an almost obsessive interest in Robin’s well-being since the incident. Chrom brings Robin food and drink, and forces him to sleep when he so much as yawns. When Chrom cannot be by his side, he assigns one of the Shepherds to stay with Robin instead.

Robin finds it incredibly endearing that Chrom wants him to get better… but sometimes it feels a little stifling. That is Robin’s beta nature shining through - the craving for independence mingling with the desire for comfort and protection.

“Robin, are you alright?”

Chrom’s voice startles him, and he realizes he’s been staring at Chrom for a few moments.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Robin whispers. He brings the large book to his chest, and the neutral, familiar scent of paper and ink drag him back to his senses a bit. Chrom’s pupils are slightly dilated, and he studies Robin with that sharp glance before stepping back. Robin breathes easier without Chrom’s scent surrounding him.

Flustered, Robin goes to the register and tries to pay for his books. He suffers through the bookseller’s kind but probing questions into his health, but the seller won’t accept his money. Eventually Robin accepts the gift - he just wants to get out of this bookstore and away from the eyes of the two young betas that are practically boring holes through his cloak. The bookseller looks inordinately pleased and Robin tries to be grateful, but all he sees in his mind’s eye is Emmeryn’s broken body in the sands of Plegia, and Chrom on his knees before it. Robin doesn’t think the shopkeep would be so generous if he knew that plan had failed.

Chrom holds the door for Robin as they go to leave.

“I’m not made of glass, Chrom,” he snaps, and steps out onto the chilly street. Chrom keeps pace beside him and they move toward their waiting carriage. Robin eases back on the harshness in his tone - the last thing he wants is to push Chrom’s alpha nature. “I understand you’re concerned, but you don’t need to protect me.”

He looks at Chrom, and is temporarily distracted. In the patchy autumn sunlight, Chrom’s blue hair shines, and his eyes sparkle. If he were wearing the exalted crown, it would catch the light, as well. Robin’s annoyance with Chrom’s behavior fades. It is difficult to be frustrated with Chrom for very long, especially when he turns that slight, almost shy smile on him, as he’s doing now.

Robin shakes his head and continues, “I’m feeling much better.” There is something in Chrom’s expression that Robin can’t identify, but he presses his point regardless. “So much so, I really don’t think the constant babysitting is necessary.”

“It’s not babysitting.” Chrom snorts his dismissal. He moves closer to Robin, though, as if the thought of Robin going off by himself is too much. “I need to take care of you.” He grips Robin’s arm and pulls him close. Robin can smell him but out in the open, with the scents of spiced autumn food and drink floating around, Chrom's delicious scent is diluted. “It was… terrifying to see you collapse like that.” Chrom’s voice is low and intense, practically a growl.

Robin supposes Chrom has reason to be protective. Three days ago, at the celebration dinner in the Shepherds’ honor, Robin collapsed of exhaustion. There had been so much to do to bring Ylisstol back to its pre-occupation state. Too many long nights of planning, of catching an hour or two of sleep a day and pushing himself the other twenty-three hours, and his body had given out under the strain. It didn’t help that he’d collapsed in the middle of Chrom’s speech.

Chrom had apparently lost it when he fell, according to Olivia. He’d leapt across the chairs separating them and it had taken Frederick and Gaius to hold the agitated prince back, so that Maribelle and Lissa could get close enough to heal Robin. A shiver ran down Robin’s spine at the idea of Chrom gathering Robin’s unconscious body in his arms and keeping everyone away, and it was not a fearful shiver. 

Chrom's reaction certainly explained why the betas in the bookstore were so hesitant in his presence.

Robin had awoken to Chrom’s fury vibrating along his skin, and Chrom had made him promise to take much better care of himself. Robin had never experienced that intensity from Chrom before, not even when Gangrel held Emmeryn as a hostage in exchange for the Fire Emblem. While he recovered, Chrom had been by his side nearly constantly. Olivia, the sole omega in the group, had shyly told Robin that Chrom had called a meeting with all the Shepherds about Robin’s health, and ordered the Shepherds to watch out for him.

Robin can’t help but feel unworthy of both Chrom’s protective concern, and the almost-hero worship the Ylisseans give him.

Chrom’s words echo through his head. " _It was… terrifying to see you collapse like that_.”

Robin tilts his head, confused for all of an instant before the pieces click together in his head. Chrom is doing this overly protective thing because he’s afraid of losing Robin. It is not just because of his nature, that he wants to protect everyone under his charge - he wants to protect _Robin_ especially.

His heart beats faster at the thought.

Those large blue eyes assess Robin for an instant, and he meets them calmly, as an equal would. There is no challenge in Chrom’s eyes, and Robin knows there isn’t any in his own.

Robin has spent more time than he wants to admit, looking into those eyes, that charming face.

They pass by a cart with an older couple in it, and the wife says, in what her deaf ears probably think is a whisper, “Look, dear, the Prince and the tactician!”

There are more whispers, from both right and left, as nearly everyone in the vicinity heard her. His cheeks flush yet again as he can feel multiple sets of eyes on him.

“Do you need anything else while we’re here?” Chrom asks, gesturing around the busy mercantile street. He moves closer to Robin.

Robin shifts the satchel in his hands, having completely forgotten their whole purpose for being here. Bookstores, apothecaries, and magical warehouses surround them, but he shakes his head. “No, I think I’m all set for now.”

Chrom nods, and they approach the carriage waiting patiently for them at the end of the street. Frederick is standing beside his horse, looking stern but patient as usual. He hadn’t protested their shopping trip, which surprised Robin a great deal. Frederick is normally focused on Chrom’s safety, and coming here into the city with only a formal guard is risky. But, Emmeryn did it so often that it was considered commonplace. The Ylisseans seem to adore Chrom almost as much as his sister.

Chrom grabs the carriage door, and motions Robin to get in before him. Robin sighs at the treatment, but seeing that dominant stance, decides not to argue.

Chrom sits beside him on the bench. It is wide enough that they aren’t touching, but in the enclosed space Chrom’s alpha scent is already seeping into him. It isn’t particularly strong, but it still sets the hairs at the back of his neck on end as he breathes it in.

Robin shifts toward Chrom as the carriage lurches forward, bearing them home - to the castle, Robin hastily corrects himself. Robin's “home” should be in the Shepherds’ barracks - but Chrom had assigned him quarters in the castle after he collapsed.

Chrom stretches that muscular body and makes a little pleased noise, and then turns to Robin. Being back in Ylisstol has certainly done Chrom good. The people have fallen for their prince, joined together in their mutual hatred of Plegian rule, and when Chrom and the army took back Ylisstol, the commonfolk followed them through the streets. They also mourn Emmeryn's death together.

Chrom smiles and Robin finds himself returning it.

“What are you so cheerful about?” Robin asks.

“Things are finally coming around,” Chrom explains. The carriage shifts sideways and Chrom puts a gloved hand on the seat between them, nearly pitching into Robin. “The city is returning to pre-crisis stability, my council isn't in an uproar, and you are feeling better.”

Robin finds it surprising to be listed last on Chrom's list - in order of priority, perhaps most important. He wasn't expecting to be included at all. What does it mean that Chrom places Robin’s well-being at the same level with peace and political solutions?

“Ah,” Robin says, when it seems apparent Chrom is waiting for a response.

“You are, aren't you?” Chrom’s eyes narrow, and he scoots closer to examine Robin’s now-pink cheeks.

“Yes, I am,” Robin hastily agrees, not wanting Chrom to think he's ill again. “I’m fine.” In truth, he's distracted by Chrom's closeness. Their hands are inches apart, and if he were to lean to his right a bit more…

The carriage turns to the left and Robin falls up against Chrom's clothed arm. He gasps in surprise, and Chrom catches his shoulder, holding him upright. Robin lifts his head and Chrom is right there, that heady alpha scent telling his beta brain to relax and let Chrom take charge.

With wider than normal pupils, Chrom drops his head so that their noses almost brush. Robin's stomach flutters, and he’s breathing fast and shallow.

Chrom’s eyes drop to his neck for a moment, those long lashes nearly obscuring that blue gaze. Robin realizes that he is looking at the pulse-point where Robin’s blood is beating faster through his carotid. That look on Chrom’s face is all alpha, and Robin’s brain dredges up the fact that when alphas mate an omega, the alpha will bite their mate on that spot. There are glands on an omega that release endorphins and all sorts of pheromones when an alpha bites them there, sometimes rendering them temporarily paralyzed or submissive.

But Robin is a beta, and biting that spot will have little to no impact on his body.

Robin desperately wants Chrom to bite him, anyway. To mark him… to claim him. The intensity of his desire surprises him.

Robin tilts his head up and to the side. Chrom’s pink tongue flicks out across his lips, and Robin stifles a noise deep in his throat at the sight. Chrom's eyebrows come down over those beautiful blue eyes, and he's staring right at Robin again. Robin leans in and-

“Milord,” Frederick's voice comes from outside the carriage, breaking the spell. Robin’s body flushes and he scoots down the seat, away from Chrom.

Robin’s not sure what just happened. Did he just try to... kiss Chrom? Or worse, wish for Chrom to bite him like an omega? He ducks his head, hand to his forehead, as Chrom speaks with Frederick through the window. A quaver in the prince's deep voice draws Robin’s attention. The words wash over him unheard as he worries about that tone. _Is that… disgust?_ Chrom has never indicated a sexual preference for men or women, despite being alpha. Robin closes his eyes and draws in a slow, calming breath, but it doesn’t help, not with Chrom’s scent still heavy and cloying in the carriage.

Robin tilts the window outward, letting in fresh air. He fights the urge to throw the door open beside him and jump out of the moving carriage, unwilling to see Chrom’s reaction to the almost-kiss. Only the thought of Chrom inevitably finding him and berating him for doing such an outrageous, dangerous thing keeps him in the carriage. Imagining that fury in Chrom’s eyes makes Robin shiver, and he rubs his sweaty palms on his pants.

Robin had spent some time researching how the three types interacted, after he’d learned the basics from a shameless Miriel. He needed to know how the Shepherds would behave around each other - dynamics like this, if left completely unchecked, could break a small intimate militia such as the Shepherds. Strategies were proven or broken by these dynamics every so often. So he knew rather more than was strictly necessary about the interactions between the three types.

He runs his mental notes through his mind to try and calm the heat on his skin. Omegas go into heat, and alphas into rut, anywhere between every few months and once a year. The urge to mate at their most fertile time is said to be overpowering, for alpha and omega alike. Betas do not have heats or ruts, although they can “play” at alpha to omega, or omega to alpha, and do so when need or preference arises.

Robin chances a glance at the back of Chrom’s head, and the rampant thought broadsides him.

_I’m attracted to Chrom. I… like him._

He’s never really put it into such concrete words before. Robin finds both genders attractive, but he never allowed himself to indulge in any romantic relations while they were away from Ylisstol. But now, he realizes, he could attempt it.

Robin enjoys Chrom’s presence and company, and Chrom seems to reciprocate that friendship… but Robin just tried to kiss Chrom, and his scent is driving Robin up the wall today. Chrom isn’t due for another rut for months - when he first started directing the Shepherds, Robin had asked Frederick for the cycles of every alpha and omega in the Shepherds, so he knows.

Unbidden, his mind brings up a vivid image of himself on hands and knees, Chrom’s hands in his hair and all over his body, taking Robin again and again until the urge subsides.

The thought of Chrom’s alpha presence in the bedroom, a touch of bare skin combined with that magnetic alpha scent, makes Robin _hard_ , and he shifts uncomfortably on the bench. Throwing himself from the carriage is looking more and more appealing by the moment, and he eyes the door handle.

Before he can go for it, Frederick rides away, and Chrom puts the window back up. He turns back to Robin, an unreadable expression on his face. Robin shifts in his seat again, feeling that weighty stare on his skin. In that instant, he’s not sure if he wants Chrom to mention what almost happened, or if he wants to bury it and never speak of it again.

“Frederick said there will be a Council meeting after dinner. We will be discussing the military, and what sort of force we should maintain now that peace has been gained. I’d like for you to join in on that meeting. I think you can calm them, and your tactics will win them over, much better than I can.”

Robin barely hears the compliments. His heart sinks, not because of the subject matter, but because of what was not said. Chrom wants to forget it, then. He should be relieved that he didn’t just completely destroy their relationship by trying to kiss Chrom, but instead his chest feels heavy.

Robin pulls on a weary smile, appropriate for the thought of a long Council session. “All right, my schedule has been cleared.”

Chrom gives a half-hearted snort at the joke. “I am not looking forward to this meeting.”

“I’ve got some plans,” Robin responds, thinking back to his desk and the work he was doing while recuperating. The books he’d just gotten would come in handy, sooner than he thought. “I’d be glad to present them tonight.”

With a sigh, Chrom leans back against the bench. “Good, I’m glad to hear you’re already on top of this. Shall we go over your ideas before dinner?”

Robin shouldn’t be so pleased with that offer, but he really wants to spend more time with Chrom. “Yes, we can do that.”

He catches the strange, sidelong glance that Chrom gives him when he thinks he isn’t watching, but he’s too afraid to comment on it. He rests his head against the side of the carriage, keeping a large distance between them, and tries not to think about how much he wants to touch the man sitting a few feet away from him.

It is nearly impossible to keep the thoughts away, but he resists the urge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics before but I've been dying to try it.  
> There will be maybe 3 more parts to this one, possibly 4?  
> My hat goes off to Kyubey's After Dinner - I spent a little too much time thinking about that one. Also, I met a very helpful Harry/Draco writer who really blew my mind with her omegaverse story (if you're interested in reading that one, I have bookmarked it on my profile). A big thank you to Blue and SML for talking about NSFW headcanons and making me thirsty. I spent wayyy too much time writing this, and will probably spend way too much time continuing to write it.  
> Please let me know what you think, and thank you very much for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Robin awakes around mid-morning, twisted up in the blankets. His dreams had been vivid and disturbing, but the only thing he can recall is the phantom brush of a hand against his forehead, protective and comforting. The sun streams through the windows as he rises and gets dressed.

The Council meeting had - predictably - lasted to well past midnight. Robin managed to convince the stuffy Councilors that his plans held merit, although he isn’t certain how coherent he’d been as the night had worn on.

He pauses in the middle of throwing his cloak on. _Something is off,_ he thinks, frowning at his desk for an instant. Then he notices the covered platter nestled between the haphazard piles of books. He’s certain he would have remembered seeing that last night when he entered. No, someone had brought it in this morning, while he slept.

An incredibly soft-spoken maid has been assigned to his suite, and she comes through twice a week, “organizing” and generally making it difficult to find anything where he left it. She probably left the platter while he slept.

There’s a little note folded on top of the platter with his name on it in a familiar hand. Robin’s stomach flips as he recognizes Chrom’s handwriting, and he quickly flips it open.

 _‘Thank you for your help last night,’_   the note reads. Chrom has neat, precise cursive, refined through years of private tutoring. Compared with Robin’s messy scrawl, it is calligraphy. _‘I thought about what you said yesterday, and I’ve decided I’m going to stop “babysitting” you - but I expect you to take care of yourself. Tell me if you feel sick again, and I’ll do whatever it takes to reduce your workload.’_

Robin reads the note two more times and then sets it on the desk, pursing his lips. He raises the cover to reveal several varieties of fruit, and on the other side, baked meatrolls. Breakfast, ready for whenever Robin awoke. Chrom is trying to take care of him, still, but he’s agreed to back off a bit.

After yesterday’s almost-kiss, Robin isn’t sure how to interpret it. Chrom isn’t the most attentive person when it comes to others’ feelings - Sumia has been pining after him for months, and Chrom has given no indication he knows. It is possible that Chrom doesn’t know how much Robin wants to kiss him. He had leaned in, his hand had lingered on Robin’s shoulder longer than strictly necessary. Chrom has been hovering for the past week... And now, suddenly, he wants to change that?

Robin winces, his stomach hurting. Chrom must have sent this note to reinforce their friendship.

Robin studies the orange slices and takes a few of them, popping the tangy fruit into his mouth as he tries to make himself feel better. The gesture may have nothing to do with the tense carriage ride, at all.

There is another note beside the platter, folded and placed in an envelope. It is just from the local merchant, indicating that the Shepherds’ new swords have come in. He is still in charge of the Shepherds, and after last night’s meeting, he will be in command of a small contingent force as well. He must keep them trained and ready to call at a moment’s notice. Even without the Plegians, there are still Risen wandering the countryside in packs.

With a heavy sigh, he pushes thoughts of Chrom from his mind.

Robin swipes one of the meat rolls and a handful of grapes, then heads down to the armory.

~*~

Robin enters the Shepherds barracks, the set of new swords carefully wrapped in his cloak to keep from cutting himself. He meant to just drop the swords off and head back to his room, but he pauses just inside the doorway.

Something smells off, a scent from somewhere nearby. It's unfamiliar, and he doesn't know what he feels about it. He raises his head, scenting carefully.

Then, he hears sniffling.

His eyes spy into the depths of the dark hall, and he sees a small figure at the far end of the table.

“Olivia, what's wrong?” he asks, setting the pile of swords on the table and sliding onto the bench beside the crying omega. The smell is stronger over here in the corner.

“You can't smell that?” she asks, her big eyes full of tears. She twists her hair around and around her fingers. “I'm going into my heat.”

“Oh,” he whispers, and resists the urge to scoot away from her. He feels nothing stirring inside of him in response to that smell, and he doesn't even recognize it as the aphrodisiac it supposedly is. He's always thought that sexual preference gets set aside when there is a heat or a rut involved, but he isn't the least bit turned on by the scent. In fact, it is quite soothing. Olivia wasn’t around during her last heat - she was a fairly recent addition to the Shepherds, although they had seen her around before she had joined.

Robin runs some mental calculations based on her known pattern. Her heat is usually every six months. “Are you sure? You’re… early.”

She gives him a frustrated glance, and Robin attributes this somewhat forward reaction to the stresses of going into heat. Olivia is normally so patient and responsive. “I've been having them twice a year since I turned sixteen, so I know that it's coming, I feel... itchy, and I had cramps yesterday. I just…” She sniffs at her runny nose, and her apologetic downward glance is back. “There are too many strangers here. I can't even stay in my room because… Maribelle is in there.”

Robin makes a sympathetic sound - he understands how having Maribelle, an alpha, in their shared room would be unpleasant.

There isn’t enough room in the barracks for all of the Shepherds, so a few are sharing quarters, at least until they can get it all sorted out. It makes him feel slightly guilty for being assigned his own room in the palace - but he can imagine the fury Chrom will exhibit if he gives the room to someone else. However, he should be able to get Olivia her own room, at least for the next few days.

Olivia sighs and mutters to herself, “I wish I was back home.”

Robin can understand that, abstractly. He imagines the start of a heat cycle is similar to being physically ill, in a way. On the few occasions when he was sick or wounded on campaign, he wanted the comfort of his own bed… and Chrom's protective presence nearby. That thought fills him with an acute ache, but he brushes it aside to assist Olivia.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks.

Olivia blinks at him. “I hope you don't mean…”

Robin's eyebrows leap up and he throws his hands out. “No, Olivia! I’m not called to you by your scent.”

She furrows her brows. At least she’s stopped crying, he realizes. “What do you mean? Oh, Robin, are you attracted to men?”

Even with Olivia, who is so unassuming and non-judgmental, he feels the urge to deny it. It is such an intimate and personal question, and he’s never admitted it to anyone, before. He bites down his agitated protest and nods, sensing that she really wants it to be true.

She sighs with relief. “That’s great that you’re not being driven wild by my scent, Robin. I wouldn’t want to compel you into something you didn’t want to do.”

Robin smiles at her. “I only meant… can I get you anything? Do you want me to bring anyone here for you?”

“Would you ask…” She swallows and shifts on the bench. “Would you ask Lon'qu if he would consider…” She blushes and can't finish the sentence. “I was trying to work up the nerve to ask him…”

“Of course,” Robin says, patting her arm. “Stay here, I'll see if I can find him.”

Her eyes fill with fresh tears in the dimness, but she smiles. “Thank you.”

~*~

It takes Robin a while to locate the dour Myrmidon, and when he does, another few minutes to convince the alpha that Olivia was asking for him because she liked him.

“She said she misses her home,” Robin explains to Lon'qu, “And she asked for you by name. You two are friends, right?”

Lon'qu grunts, frowning and struggling to conceal a blush. He admits, after some coaxing, that they had been friendly together, and they had spoken about the possibility of returning to Ferox together when this was all over. Eventually he agrees to go with Robin.

As soon as Robin opens the door to the barracks main hall, he smells the changes. The rich, heady aroma of Olivia’s pheromones, combined with the deep woodsy scent of roused alpha, flutter past him. Olivia’s scent still doesn't have an impact on Robin.

He wonders with some concern if his exhaustion had somehow turned off or broken his biological responses to mating. Robin hadn’t been attracted to anyone within the Shepherds, except for Chrom, since he’d awoken with his memories gone. But since the war ended, he has noticed that his nose is growing more sensitive to the scents the other Shepherds are putting off. He hopes that means his desire and mating response will return soon, as well.

Unbidden, his mind dredges up that almost-kiss with Chrom - his alpha scent had been nearly overpowering in the carriage - and _then_ he feels something stir below. Before he can really process that, he spots Olivia.

In the almost hour since Robin left, her demeanor has changed drastically.

She is dancing in place for the small crowd that gathered at her body’s call, her shy smile replaced with something more cunning. The thrust and swirl of her hips is mesmerizing, even though he feels no sexual attraction to her.

Behind Robin, Lon’qu makes a low noise, almost a growl, and he shoulders Robin out of the way. Robin feels Lon’qu’s alpha presence in that brush of his shoulder, and draws in a breath in surprise. The Myrmidon’s eyes have shifted, his pupils dilated. He moves right to Olivia and stands beside her, watching her dance with nearly undivided purpose. She turns to Lon'qu with a smile, twining her ribbon around his arm, and then spins about him. Lon'qu watches her as if there is nothing else in the world, but the others do too.

According to his studies, an omega still has the prescience of mind to choose her partner in the first few hours of the active heat. At some point, her body’s nature and instincts take over, and she needs to either be confined, or enter into a mating with someone, beta or alpha. 

But Robin is relieved he brought Lon’qu back in time. It is obvious that even though he is afraid of women most of the time, Lon’qu really cares for Olivia. They might have wanted to take their relationship slow, but there is no reluctance between them now, with Olivia’s pheromones drawing them together. Olivia had requested him first - and she was choosing him now.

The others edge in, eager because she is the only omega in their group.

Robin moves closer to Olivia, ready to step in, but Lon'qu growls audibly and the alphas all take a step back at hearing him assert his claim. The betas that had gathered have already backed away, ceding to the alphas.

None of them leave, though. They are watching. Robin hopes that Lon’qu still has sense enough to take Olivia back to his room.

Robin tears his eyes from Olivia and studies the rest of the crowd. An omega heat is supposedly very strong (at least to the others), and everyone who passed by had probably felt it and stayed. There were several betas gathered here, including himself, and most of the Shepherd alphas - including Chrom.

 _Chrom_.

He stops breathing, throat tightening. Something is fluttering in his stomach as if he’s going to be sick. Robin is furious with Chrom’s presence here, so angry his feet are carrying him forward before he realizes it.

He skirts around the enthralled group, aiming right for the blue-haired alpha. Chrom is watching Olivia like the others, but he wrenches his face from that lithe dancing form and meets Robin’s gaze. It is almost as if he’d sensed Robin’s approach.

There is something in Chrom's face, his eyes, that draws Robin in. It is a dangerous, almost feral look.

Robin has a moment's clarity where he wonders if perhaps Olivia's heat is having an effect on him after all - and then he's standing right before Chrom and staring up into his eyes.

The prince’s pupils are large and wide, blue irises almost lost in a thin ring around the dark pupil. He seems surprised that Robin is nearby, and narrows his eyes.

“Robin,” Chrom says, “What are you doing here? You’re not here for Olivia, too, are you?”

A low growl is coming from nearby, and Robin jolts as he realizes it is himself. _What is happening?_ he wonders, flinching and raising a hand to his temple.

It is as if sensing Olivia’s heat and knowing Chrom is drawn to it has broken something loose and frantic in Robin’s head. He can't just leave Chrom in here, even though the prince is not his to claim.

They had one pathetic almost-kiss, and the note this morning was anything except clear on where they stood. Robin has no right to Chrom… but he wants him all to himself. Robin wants a real kiss, he wants the touch of Chrom’s skin against his own. He _desires_ Chrom, craves him with an intensity that startles a shudder out of him.

“Are you okay, Robin?” Chrom asks, and brushes his bare fingers against Robin’s hand at his temple. That soft touch is like lightning through his body, and Chrom’s eyes widen, his mouth opening in surprise.

“Please,” Robin whispers, but can't find the words to complete that request. _Please, what? Please ignore Olivia, and want me instead?_

“Robin,” Chrom breathes his name, his eyes still dark and lust-filled. His fingers run down Robin’s arm while he stands there nearly frozen in place. His touch trails tingling sparks along his heated skin. “What is it?”

 _This is a bad idea_ , Robin realizes, his brain working slowly.

“N-never mind,” Robin chokes out, and steps back. Chrom’s hand falls between them. “It can wait.” Every nerve in his body is begging for him to sneak forward and touch those soft lips, but he remains strong.

“Robin?” Chrom looks at him with narrowed eyes, thoroughly distracted from Olivia now, and Robin wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

He finally breaks from the intense stare, looking down as his whole face heats up.

“It's fine,” Robin manages to say. “I'm just - agitated, because...” He waves his hand toward Olivia, sees Chrom follow his gesture with his eyes, looking again at the dancing omega. Robin can’t take it anymore, can’t stand the desire in Chrom’s eyes when he looks at Olivia.

“Excuse me-” he says, and bolts. He accidently bumps into Maribelle as he blindly rushes from Chrom. He catches her shoulder and sets her upright. Her scowl follows him out of the room, and then he is out in the cool air, which feels nice on his hot skin. He draws in a few breaths and moves away from the barracks. He doesn't know where he's going, only that he wants to get as far away as possible. A sob gets stuck in his throat.

Of course Chrom is interested in Olivia. _Who isn't?_ Just Robin, apparently. He sniffs and swipes at the tears that are welling out of his eyes, trickling down the side of his nose. A hand falls heavy on his shoulder.

He squeaks, and spins. It's Chrom.

Robin stares a little too long into Chrom's eyes, and he sees _alpha_ rise in their depths. He drops his eyes from Chrom's, but it's too late. That alpha power floods his body with warmth and awareness, and he suddenly feels the weave of his undershirt against his chest, the smooth collar at the back of his neck, his hair tickling his skin.

Chrom's voice is like satin or velvet against his ears. “What was that back there? Are you okay? Was it my note and the food I dropped off this morning?”

Robin’s mind is reeling again, and he stares at Chrom numbly. Chrom personally brought him that breakfast. He’d been in Robin's room, had seen him sound asleep. Robin recalls the phantom touch he'd felt in his dream. Had that... been Chrom? Robin's whole body flushes this time, and Chrom's alpha scent is driving him crazy.

“No, I…” Maybe it is Chrom’s aroma, or maybe it is Chrom admitting that he'd done that for Robin… but something clicks in Robin's head. Chrom cares - he cared enough this morning to deliver breakfast personally.

With butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Robin takes Chrom's shoulders, pulls him down, and kisses him.

Chrom makes a noise that might be a sigh or a protest, and stays still. His body shudders under Robin's hands, and he doesn't respond to the kiss.

Robin goes cold, his skin feeling clammy and uncomfortable. He pulls back, staring at Chrom in horror.

“Please, don't do that,” Chrom growls, his voice deep and gravelly. Chrom looks angry - his hands are clenched and there is a muscle twitching in his jaw.

“I… I'm sorry,” Robin stammers, a hot flush on his skin, not pleasant as it had been when Chrom’s alpha scent overpowered him moments ago. He feels lightheaded, almost like he is going to pass out again. Robin puts a hand out to the wall beside them, his fingertips pressing against the rough wood surface. “It… was just… her heat…” A half-formed thought crosses his mind and he blurts it out quickly. “I was overwhelmed.” It is almost a lie, and not quite - ever since seeing Chrom in there with Olivia, he has been overwhelmed.

Chrom catches his shoulder and pushes him roughly against the wall, hovering over him.

“You should know better than to get an alpha worked up when there's heat nearby,” Chrom says, his words clipped and slow.

Robin stares at Chrom's crossed sword belts and refuses to meet his eye. He senses danger now, but his body is really excited by Chrom's presence above him.

“I won’t take advantage of you because of that,” Chrom says. The words resonate with Robin, and he realizes he's rock hard in his pants, and probably has been since he first scented Chrom.

With what appears to be an effort, Chrom steps away. Robin feels the loss of his touch like a physical pain, but lets him go.

“Where’s your cloak?” Chrom asks, his voice a deep growl.

Robin realizes he’s got goosebumps on his arms. “Back in there,” he says, recalling the swords he had left on the table, wrapped in his cloak. There’s no way he’s going back in there with Chrom, and Chrom seems to feel the same reluctance. He unbuckles his cape and holds it out to Robin. “Here,” he says.

Robin wraps it around his shoulders, resisting the urge to smell it.

“Don't you… want to go back in there?” Robin asks softly, fearful but needing to know.

“No. I'm not interested.”

Robin eyes him. His heart feels lighter, even though he's still confused by Chrom.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your rooms.” Chrom puts a hand out to Robin’s shoulder and gently turns him back toward the castle. Robin is painfully aware of Chrom’s touch, and it feels so… tentative. An image of Chrom forcefully pressing him down over the bed with that hand crosses his mind, making him nearly trip.

The walk back is silent, and Robin can’t find anything to say. It feels more awkward than ever, and as they enter the castle Robin remembers his regret at not bringing up their almost kiss from the carriage yesterday. If they never talk about this again, Robin won't feel right. He needs closure. 

“Chrom, I -”

“Don’t, Robin,” Chrom says, with an air of desperation. “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t silence me.” Robin snaps. “You don’t know what I’m about to say!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back.

Chrom grabs his upper arm and pushes him up against the wall of the corridor, breathing heavy. His eyes are dark as he stares down at Robin. Robin draws in a gasp and there’s Chrom’s alpha scent. He resists the urge to shove his face against Chrom’s skin, but he can’t keep his eyes from closing with pleasure.

“I know exactly what you’re going to say, and I’m not ready to talk about this.” His hand is tight and painful on Robin’s arm, but then his other hand comes up and caresses Robin’s cheek.

Robin sighs, and leans into that touch, his eyes rolling up into his head as it just feels _so good_. Part of him, a very distant, small part, wonders why it feels wonderful, but that part is jostled out of the way, replaced by something a lot more demanding.

“Gods, you make this so _difficult_ ,” Chrom growls, and kisses him, so hard that his head knocks back against the wall. Robin’s body goes numb except for the points where Chrom is touching him. Chrom’s lips and tongue are demanding, desperate, and every bit as wonderful as Robin had expected. Chrom is _kissing_ him.

And then Chrom's hand is against his jaw, tilting his head up, exposing his neck. His lips feather against Robin's pulse, beating frantically just beneath the skin. Just a little bite, just a little further...

Robin moans, and tilts his body forward, his thigh sliding between Chrom’s legs.

Chrom jerks back and steps away. Without another word, he stares at Robin, and his eyes look hungry - but then pain fills them. Robin starts to push off from the wall, but Chrom holds his hands out between them.

“Stop, Robin. Not now.”

 _Not… now?_ Robin is surprised by Chrom’s words. He stands, trembling, as Chrom backs away.

With a look filled with regret, Chrom turns away from him, and strides down the corridor.

“Chrom? Chrom!” Robin stares after his retreating back, but his legs feel like pudding and they won’t support his weight.

When Chrom is out of sight, Robin slides down the wall. His skin is alight with sensation, but there’s no comfort to be had in the cold stone behind him. He stays there for a few moments, until he’s certain - Chrom isn’t coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write! :)  
> Please let me know what you thought about this chapter, and thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

Robin slams the heavy book closed and shifts to the next one, paging through listlessly. He’s standing over his desk, vaguely aware that it is probably past dinnertime, but his stomach is in painful knots. The lantern on the desk flickers, dimming for a moment. He’s been trying to research army sizes and recruitment rates in peaceful times, but his attention span has shrunk considerably as the afternoon dragged into evening.

Agitation fills his body - agitation and arousal, and he can’t get rid of either. When he touched himself earlier to try and relieve the pressure, he saw Chrom’s face, felt Chrom’s hands on his skin. He couldn’t do it, so here he is, his whole body itchy.

Maybe this is a delayed reaction to Olivia’s heat. Or, the more likely thought… it’s his reaction to Chrom.

Robin exhales a gusty sigh, leaning on his hands pressed flat against the desk. He hangs his head. What is he supposed to do about Chrom, when the prince keeps pushing him away? Robin doesn’t think it’s the fact that he’s a beta, nor the fact that he’s a man - no, it’s something else. A dreadful thought re-crosses his mind for the fifth or sixth time - Could Chrom be secretly engaged to someone, and just hasn’t announced it yet? Or maybe he’s keeping his options open, in case he has to make a strategic marriage with Plegia to secure peace down the road. In the distant past, the two countries had intermarried, but it hadn’t been attempted in a few centuries.

He exhales his frustration with the one question he keeps coming back to. Why did Chrom push him away? _Not now,_ he’d said.

He slams the second book’s cover shut too, and dust puffs out from the dusty stack of tomes to his right. A sneeze bursts out of him as the dust flutters around him, and then another one. When his nose starts running, he retreats to the bed. His eyes are leaking tears thanks to the burn in his sinuses.

There’s a knock at the door, and in between sneezes he calls out, “Who is it?”

Silence answers him, and he has a funny feeling he knows who is standing out there. _And now it looks like I’ve been crying_ , he thinks, scrubbing at his watery eyes. He wants to show Chrom an indifferent facade, not this probably red-eyed mess.

He stuffs his face into his sleeve and sneezes a final time, then rises. If he doesn’t answer, Chrom will probably just barge in. Part of him doesn’t even want to see Chrom, but another part of him does.

Robin is so confused and torn about Chrom that when he opens the door, he just stares up at him for a moment. Words fail him, and he gives Chrom what he hopes is a glare.

Chrom looks miserable, nearly as upset as Robin feels. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are narrowed as if in response to some pain. Robin feels a twinge of satisfaction, seeing that hurt in his face. Chrom holds another platter in his hands, similar to this morning, and Robin looks quickly away from it.

After a few moments of silence, Chrom asks, “May I come in?”

Robin backs up and sits at the desk. It is permission, although not spoken aloud. He draws his feet up on the seat of the chair and rests his chin on his knees, watching Chrom’s feet. Chrom closes the door behind himself and stands beside it for a few moments. Robin can tell that Chrom is staring at him, but he refuses to meet the alpha’s eyes.

Chrom walks over to the desk and shifts the books out of the way, then places the platter down.

“I noticed you weren’t at dinner.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Robin replies, determined to make this as difficult as possible for Chrom. At this distance, he can smell Chrom, but the scent is diluted by the tingling in his nose from the dust.

Chrom stands beside him, not responding, but not moving.

Robin looks up at Chrom, and wishes he hadn’t. The prince’s eyes are filled with sorrow, with apology, and Robin can’t look at him without his own resolve breaking down a bit. He shouldn’t have looked, because now he already feels softer toward the alpha.

“Was there something else?” he asks, setting one of his feet on the floor and leaning back into the chair a bit. His fingers lace around his knee as he tries to relax his tense body. "I have a lot of work to do." 

Chrom frowns. “I just received notice that the new Plegian king has been chosen. I thought we could discuss plans for the coronation,” Chrom says, and thrusts a folded paper toward Robin. “They haven't left us much time.”

Robin unfolds the smooth vellum invitation and frowns at the elegant writing. “The coronation is in less than a week. They probably delayed your invitation purposefully… You’ll need to leave soon to make it in time.” He knows they have to at least try to attend, though. It could open up peace talks between the two countries - something they need desperately, after the defeat of Gangrel. Plegia is a large unknown at the moment, and Chrom should meet with the new Plegian leadership as soon as possible.

Chrom continues, “I’m to bring an honor guard of only ten people. I want them to be Shepherds - and I want you to be in charge of them.”

Robin stares at Chrom for an instant, and he knows all that raw hurt from earlier is bared on his face. He can’t seem to keep it locked up inside, not with Chrom standing right beside him, making it hard to move and breathe and think. A part of Robin still wants Chrom, even after what happened earlier.

Chrom continues in an uncertain tone, “You don’t have to, but I’d... prefer if you would come with us.”

Robin hears a crumpling noise, and realizes that he’s squished the vellum invitation in his hand. He sets it on the desk and smooths it out with his palm, then looks back at Chrom. Robin is under no obligation to Chrom, no oath or vow… but he can’t let Chrom go into Plegia without him.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he says.

“Thank you,” Chrom replies, and there is a faint smile on his face.

Robin scowls, and that cheer fades nearly instantly. He shoves the paper back at Chrom, staring at the fast pulse in the prince's neck.

“Robin,” Chrom hazards as he takes the invitation back. His tone has changed, gone softer, more intimate.

Robin turns away from the prince and reaches for another book, trying to ignore the trembling in his hands. He’s not ready for that conversation. “Please, go.”

Chrom puts his hand on Robin’s shoulder. His touch feels like a warm fire in the hearth, and it’s as if Robin’s body has completely forgotten that he’s angry with Chrom. For an instant, Robin leans toward that welcome heat, that scent, rubbing his cheek against the gloved hand.

And then he shrugs Chrom off and stands. Chrom is lucky he didn't toss the book at him. Robin is still angry with Chrom - he _needs_ to be angry with him, because the alternative... Robin goes for the door and holds it open for Chrom, his intention clear.

Chrom’s eyes snap at the dismissal, and his jaw tightens. Even across the room, Robin smells the spike in alpha scent, heavy and immediate.

Robin might have just pushed Chrom too far. He stands still, eyes on Chrom's feet as he slowly approaches. All his research on how to handle alphas without forcing a dominance display comes to the fore of his mind. _Don’t make eye contact, stay still, but assert your demand as non-confrontationally as possible._

“Chrom - please, just go.” He hates that he added the “please” - Chrom doesn’t deserve it, but he can’t take it back.

Chrom pushes into Robin’s space, so close Robin can practically feel the heat radiating off his thigh and torso. Through his itchy nose, the scent digs into his brain, trying to convince him to obey. Chrom's pheromones are strong, but Robin grits his teeth. He won't be manipulated by that scent, no matter how delicious it is.

“Leave me alone.” He puts his hand out and slowly pushes against Chrom’s chest, and to his surprise the alpha backs up. Robin sneaks a glance at his face, but thankfully the alpha’s eyes are closed. Robin looks back down at the crossed belts, and the chest beneath them expands as he draws in a deep breath.

“Okay,” Chrom growls. “I’ll leave now.” His tone darkens. “You had better eat something.”

Robin nods quickly. “I will.” He doesn’t thank Chrom for bringing him the food.

The prince passes through the doorway, and Robin catches a glimpse of his eyes as he closes the door. What he sees there makes his knees go weak. _It’s not fair_ , he thinks instantly. _It’s not fair that he makes me feel like_ this, _and then comes at me with_ that _look in his eye_.

He leans his forehead against the door and exhales, his fist pressed knuckle-first into the wood.

If Chrom truly has that much desire for Robin… why did he push him away twice today?

“Gods be damned,” Robin hisses, and punches the door. His knuckles sting as he stalks back to the desk. He turns his focus to planning for the Plegian trip, sneaking bites of food even though he’s not hungry - he wouldn’t put it past Chrom to force-feed him if he doesn’t eat.

Eventually, he puts his studies aside, mindful that he should get some sleep. The last thing he needs is to let his own health deteriorate again. Chrom would find out somehow, and then he wouldn't get a moment to himself. Tomorrow will be a busy day, and the day after that, they are leaving at first light.

His bed feels lonely and cold as he drifts off into sleep.

~*~

Chrom’s fingers glide across his sweaty skin, tracing burning lines down his back while Robin squirms under his hold. One hand is a gentle pressure around Robin’s neck, holding him upright on all fours. Chrom’s other hand trails down his stomach and then up his thighs, exploring with nails and the pads of his fingertips. Knuckles brush against Robin’s swelling erection and he moans. Chrom’s voice is soft and soothing behind him, but he can’t make out the words. He’s overwhelmed by the sensations and the scent of _alpha_ that has seeped into his skin like touch.

He feels Chrom’s cock behind him, firm and ready against his ass, and he presses back. It slides along the outside of his body, causing Robin to whine with impatience. He wants it in him _now_.

Chrom leans over him, his skin pressing all around Robin’s, generating more heat and more sensation. Chrom tilts Robin’s head and his teeth lightly graze over that spot in his neck. Robin’s pulse beats frantically against those teeth, that soft mouth, the promise it represents.

“Yes,” he whispers, “Chrom.”

Just as Chrom sets his teeth and presses the tip of his dick into Robin’s ready asshole, he awakes.

Robin is lying on his stomach, grinding his hard-on into the mattress. He rolls over and sits up, scrubbing his hands through his hair in absolute frustration.

_I just had a sex dream about Chrom_ , he thinks, and if it wasn’t so painful it might have been funny.

It’s hot beneath the blankets, but when he takes them off, he feels cold. He shivers violently, grabbing his pants and shirt from the chair where he left them at night, and hauling them back under the covers with him to warm them.

_I just had a_ sex dream _about Chrom_ , he thinks again. “Gods,” he whispers, his skin sweaty. It had felt so real. A soft whimper gets stuck in his throat as he recalls it in vivid detail for a moment, and he snakes a hand down and palms his erection at the memory.

Robin can’t resist it, and with the dream still clinging to his skin, he doesn’t want to. He calls up the images from the dream, of Chrom taking him from behind, possessive and controlling… Robin holds his trembling cock and pumps at it for a few minutes, letting the imagined sensations of Chrom overwhelm him.

But it doesn’t help. He can’t bring himself to orgasm, and after almost ten minutes of hanging on that burning edge, he flings himself out of bed and throws his clothes on.

After a few minutes of pacing around, and thinking about the grossest, least sexy things he has ever seen, his erection fades.

His legs tremble as he walks off the frustration, and he opens a window to clear out some of his aroused scent. Even betas put off a scent, although his seems a little stronger than normal. Well, at least he thinks it’s stronger than normal. While they were roaming the countryside, he had no baseline. Robin wasn’t focused on mating, or sexual urges. He had been focused only on keeping everyone alive, and he’d done that… with a few painful exceptions.

He still feels on edge, but his body slowly returns to normal. He draws in a deep breath and exhales. Robin isn't sure he can even look Chrom in the eye after the dream… and then he remembers that he's supposed to be cross with him anyway.

With a growl, he goes to the desk and studies his notes from last night. He gathers up the pertinent papers and leaves his room, determined to have some breakfast before Chrom decides to check up on him.

Frederick unintentionally intercepts him before he makes it to the dining hall for breakfast. The knight has been up for a few hours already, gathering supplies for the trip. Robin guesses that Chrom told Frederick about it last night, after speaking with Robin, because Frederick knew that Robin was going to Plegia as one of the ten guards.

The day passes in a flurry of activity, as Robin coordinates the preparations with Frederick and Anna. Supplies and horses are prepared, and those guards who are going along are notified. The barracks are busy, soldiers and staff moving with purposeful and sometimes frantic strides.

Finally, just before dinnertime, Robin and Frederick are at the long table in the Shepherds barracks. Robin's stomach is in painful knots and his head is swimming, but at first he doesn’t think it is anything other than hunger. He ignores the sensations, knowing they are almost done with their preparations. The smell of food being prepared nearby wafts over, and he promises himself he will eat when dinner is ready.

He stands over Frederick, who is crossing items off a long list with a quill. Robin's stomach aches suddenly, feeling a bit like he’s being stabbed, and he grimaces and puts his hand down to it. Gods, his stomach is cranky - and then he realizes that he hasn't eaten anything since the few bites of food Chrom had brought him the night before. No wonder it hurts.  

Thankfully, Frederick is looking down at his notes, and the pain soon passes unnoticed by him. The knight is an alpha, but he's been spending time serving Chrom for years, and he defers to Chrom's judgment more often than not. He would report any illness that Robin exhibited right to Chrom as soon as he left Robin's side.

Frederick sets his quill down and unrolls the sleeves of his button-down shirt with a little shudder, his eyes still firmly on the list.

Robin’s cheeks feel hot and flushed. He’s long since removed his cloak, and it’s piled up on the bench beside Frederick. Is it… cold in here?

He feels a twinge of fear, wondering if he’s coming back down with some illness. He should have taken better care of himself today. A nagging voice at the back of his mind said that if he had forgiven Chrom last night, the alpha would have probably spent the day with him, and forced food and drink on him at regular intervals. He clenches his hands into fists at his side.

Robin is not ready to forgive Chrom. Maybe he just needs a good night’s rest and some food to feel better. He swipes his padded vambrace across his clammy brow, starting to feel impatient as Frederick reads through the list.

“We've been over this a few times, Frederick. I'm certain we've packed everything. We should be able to move out at first light tomorrow morning.”

After a moment, Frederick nods, and raises brown eyes to Robin. “Yes, you are right. I'm going a little overboard again, aren't I?"

Robin nods at that.

Frederick smiles faintly. "I guess we're done, then. Time to relax.”

Robin winces again as his stomach throbs, and can't quite hide it from Frederick this time.

The knight’s eyes narrow uncertainly. “Robin, are you alright?”

“Yes, fine,” he says. “I haven't eaten much today, actually. Just hungry.”

“Ah,” Frederick says, but only looks more concerned. Suddenly, Robin realizes that he’s swaying on his feet. Something _is_ wrong, Robin thinks, and then his head is swirling. He stumbles forward and nearly collapses into Frederick’s arms. Despite Robin being warm and sweaty, Frederick’s hands feel hot against his skin.

Frederick’s scent surrounds him as he slackens against him, and it smells unexpectedly good. But then that alpha scent reminds him of Chrom, and how angry he will be.

“Frederick,” he mutters, “Don’t tell Chrom, please…” He trails off, as another wave of dizziness rushes him. He closes his heavy eyelids, and they don’t want to open again.

The last thing he recalls before sweeping into that cool darkness is Frederick’s voice. “Somebody get Chrom!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lord this is turning into a bit of a Slow Burn. Why do I do this to myself (and you, my faithful reader)? 
> 
> Please feel free to hit me up with any questions you have about the dynamics in this world. I had a lot of fun developing the interactions and the way things work around here. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and please let me know if you did! It means a lot to me to hear comments, truly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some drama, some fluff, and then more drama in this one. It's also really long, and editing took forever - so please feel free to point out any errors you notice. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 4

“That's the last one, Chrom,” Sumia calls, as Chrom slips into the stall.

He pats Robin’s mare on the forehead, whispering soothing things as Sumia had taught him. This is the most important horse, and he’s saved her for last. The leather halter is soft beneath his fingers, and the mare turns one large eye toward him. He runs a hand over the warm chestnut flank, ensuring that the horse is up for the journey to Plegia.

She sniffs his hair, and then snorts at his scent. The look she gives him is obviously disapproving, and he chuckles. He probably smells like tired, agitated alpha.

“You don’t smell so good either,” he tells her, then continues his inspection. Breathing through his mouth certainly helps with the stink, but he’s really grateful he doesn’t have to do this every day.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to help out in the stables. Robin’s mare was familiar with Chrom’s scent, but the others had been agitated by his presence. It was better than skulking around the barracks, avoiding Robin, and it  _certainly_ beat the stuffy council meeting he’d attended this morning.

Not that Chrom wants to avoid Robin… no, he is giving the other man space. Space to cool down, to lose some of that anger… to see that Chrom wants to make things right between them.

He pours some grain in the hopper, and the mare noses in greedily before he’s done. Chrom pauses beside her for a few moments, hand on her shoulder.

After dinner, Chrom is going to tell Robin how he feels.

His stomach flutters, and he shifts from foot to foot. The horse turns a wide eye toward him, watching carefully, nostrils flaring. All day he has managed to distract himself from thinking of Robin. But now, that worry is back and gnawing at his insides. Will Robin be open to his apology? Or will he turn him away again? The touch of Robin’s hand against his chest, pushing him back, is burnt into him like a brand. He never wants to feel that rejection again.

Chrom closes his eyes for a moment and stifles a growl. This whole fight between them is just a big misunderstanding, and _that_ is mostly Chrom’s fault.

He had panicked.

Chrom might be an alpha, but he prides himself on being rational - he doesn’t take advantage of anyone under the influence of pheromones, without prior consent. He had chosen to be companionless throughout the war against Plegia, suffering his ruts in relative solitude. There was too much at stake, and he’d been worried that if he chose a beta (or Olivia), he would disrupt the balance within the Shepherds. The last thing he needed was a tryst gone wrong or a slighted lover to ruin Robin’s well-laid plans.

So Chrom has avoided all emotional entanglements…but he isn’t prepared for the intensity with which he desires Robin.

Chrom finds Robin’s determination and courage on the battlefield inspiring. And the way he takes care of the Shepherds, listening to their concerns and helping them with their problems… But most of all, the way he listens to Chrom, how he is willing and eager to talk about hard decisions or trivial details - how he brightens when Chrom approaches.

Robin became his closest friend during the war, and there is something about Robin that makes Chrom want to protect him, and to hold him close, even now. Chrom has tried his best to keep from being too overbearing, too protective, even when the agony of the distance between them makes his cock ache with unsatisfied longing.

When Robin kissed him outside the barracks, Chrom had assumed his tactician was just reacting to Olivia’s heat, and the presence of a turned-on alpha. Chrom had pushed him away for his own protection, so that he wouldn’t get hurt.

It wasn’t until he’d retreated to his room - after nearly taking Robin then and there, in the hallway - that he realized that Robin felt the same way Chrom did. That lust in Robin’s eyes, that delicious kiss… they weren’t brought on by Olivia’s heat, but his own desire. Chrom had seen the same adoring, open expression on his face during their almost-kiss in the carriage, well before coming into contact with Olivia.

Chrom had hurt Robin deeply by rejecting him twice - three times, if one includes the aborted kiss in the carriage. He needs to make this right… and tonight is the night. He just prays Robin will forgive him.

He inhales deeply, getting a whiff of the unpleasant odor of horse, and grits his teeth. If he had just paid a little more attention to Robin, this whole situation might have been avoided…

“Has anyone seen Chrom?” A loud voice calls from the walkway. Chrom catches a tremor in Gaius’s voice, and instantly his heart beats faster.

“I’m here, Gaius. Are you alright?” He rushes to the half-door of the stall. He inspects the thief, but there doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong - other than his labored breathing. He looks like he’s just run across Ylisstol. Chrom narrows his eyes, waiting impatiently for the beta to get out his message.

Gaius leans over his knees, panting. “Yeah... I’m fine. It’s...Robin.”

Chrom grips the edge of the door tight. “What about Robin?”

“He collapsed,” Gaius says. He continues to speak, but Chrom can’t hear anything beyond the roaring of his blood in his ears. _Robin… collapsed._ He is ill, and Chrom left him alone. He should have seen the signs - he should have been there. Instead he gave the other man space, and now, he’s sick again. Someone growls nearby, and it is only when Gaius stops talking and stares that he realizes it’s himself.

Chrom vaults the half-door and grips the beta’s forearm, pulling him upright. “Where is he?” He presses Gaius back against the rough wooden wall between the stalls. “Where is Robin?” He stares right into Gaius’s eyes, demanding instant obedience.

The horses in the stalls on either side of them react to the sudden surge of _alpha_ , but Chrom ignores them, all his focus on Gaius.

The thief’s nostrils flare as he breathes fast, scenting Chrom’s alpha pheromones. “In the barracks’ main hall.” He motions back the way he came, and Chrom lets go.

He has to get to the barracks - to Robin. The thought consumes him, and he takes off at a run. Faintly he hears Sumia call out for him, asking what is wrong, but he doesn’t respond.

 _Robin is hurt. I have to get to him._ It is all he can think, all he can do. He runs down the walkway, nearly crashing into Cordelia, who leaps out of the way with a cry. Anger and panic lend his legs strength. Every beat of his heart chants Robin’s name, and he slows only when he approaches the door to the barracks. He fumbles at the doorknob with shaking hands and wrenches the door open.

Several heads turn toward him. Chrom catches a glimpse of Robin’s white hair and moves swiftly toward him, ignoring everyone else.

“Robin,” he breathes.

Frederick is seated on the bench and holding Robin upright, cradling him protectively. If Chrom were thinking rationally he would realize that his knight is trying to do right by him - but with Robin defenseless, Chrom can’t _stand_ seeing the other alpha touching him. He stalks forward, a low growl rising in his chest.

His tactician is slack against Frederick’s shoulder, mouth slightly parted, left hand dangling limp by his thigh. One of Frederick’s arms is secure around his torso. Robin’s chest rises and falls, a bit fast, but the repetitive motion soothes some of Chrom’s fears.

Lissa is crouched before Frederick, checking Robin’s vitals, but she glances up at Chrom when he comes to one knee beside them.

“Give him to me,” he demands, and Frederick hands Robin over without protest.

In spite of the situation, Chrom’s body relaxes with Robin in his arms, the touch of his hot skin soothing Chrom’s frantic need to protect. The alpha urges within lessen somewhat, enough that he can think rather than just react.

“What happened?” Chrom demands as he adjusts to Robin’s slack weight. He is slender, and toned rather than muscular, but his body is still heavy.

Frederick explains, his voice soft and pitched in a calming manner, “We were just finishing up when he collapsed. I’m sorry, Chrom. I should have paid more attention.”

“We both should have.” Frederick’s eyes go wide, and then he drops them away.

“It looks like exhaustion to me,” Lissa informs Chrom, attempting to diffuse the tension between the two alphas. “But we should have Libra take a look as well. I bet he’s been running himself ragged all day.”

That does sound like Robin. There was a lot going on, and Robin probably took it upon himself to manage everything.

Chrom inhales deeply, his nose pressed against Robin’s hair, but all he can smell is a faint residue of soap. Even yesterday, after Olivia’s heat, Robin’s own scent had been faint.

Chrom doesn’t dare put his mouth to Robin’s neck, to the warm spot where his pulse beats, even though his scent would be stronger there. Chrom’s self-control has been frayed into shreds, and he can’t guarantee he won’t bite at that tender skin. If he does mark Robin in such a possessive way, he wants him awake and begging for it. The thought sets his body aflame with desire, and he clutches Robin tighter to him.

“Is Robin alright?” Gaius asks from somewhere behind Chrom. The Shepherds are speaking in hushed tones, making the hall feel crowded.

“Yes, he’ll be fine,” Lissa responds, rising from her knees beside him. “Chrom, we need to get him back to his room.” She leans in with Robin’s cloak.

As she tucks it around Robin, Chrom protests, “He’s burning up.”

“It’s cold outside,” Lissa says, pressing the cloak around Chrom’s arms. He lets her, even though a small part of him doesn’t even want _her_ touching Robin. She’s a beta, and a healer, and his sister - she isn’t a threat, but for some reason his body registers her as one. “Even with that fever, he should be covered up, or it could make him sicker.”

Chrom cocks his head, fear thrilling through his veins. “He has a fever?”

Lissa nods, her lips pressed together, and Chrom’s eyebrows furrow. The last time he’d collapsed, his temperature had been normal.

Robin stirs, his eyelashes fluttering at Chrom’s neck. He groans softly, and Chrom shifts his arms to view his face, all his focus on Robin. His eyes slit open, dark against his pale face and hair. “Chrom?” he asks softly.

“Robin.” Chrom trembles with the effort of holding in the frustration that rises up at hearing Robin’s voice. It won’t do to let out his emotions on Robin when he’s in this state, but he feels them flooding his body, choking his throat.

“What...?” Robin shudders, and clings a little tighter to Chrom. Robin seems weak and confused, and doesn’t try to stand.

“You’re alright,” Lissa says to Robin when Chrom doesn’t answer. “You passed out, but we’re going to take you back to your room so you can rest.”

“Oh,” Robin whispers. Chrom feels those eyelashes gently drift shut. Robin’s hand clutches tight at his shirt.

“Come on, Chrom,” Lissa says gently.

When Chrom rises and turns, most of the Shepherds are in the hall, including the ones who had been with him in the stables. Lon’qu and Olivia are notably absent - but Chrom isn’t expecting to see them before leaving for Plegia. An omega heat tends to last at least two days, and neither of them would be up for the journey.

Chrom squeezes Robin closer at the sight of the crowd. Chrom knows all of them and is friendly with a few, but Robin’s illness is making him more protective. They are all grim and concerned, more so than the first time Robin had collapsed. Sumia has her hand pressed to her mouth, and Nowi actually looks close to tears. Chrom understands - he hadn’t expected it to happen again, either.

All Chrom wants to do in this instant is take Robin somewhere secluded, far away from everyone. But with an effort, he pulls himself together and issues tense commands. “Lissa and Frederick, come with me. Gaius, find Libra and bring him to Robin’s rooms. Someone bring some bread and water, too.” With that, he walks toward the door, and everyone gets out of his way. Conversations start up louder as he passes through the doorway.

The outside air is refreshing, but Chrom is glad Robin is bundled up in his cloak. Chrom hadn’t noticed the temperature on his mad dash to the barracks, but he feels it almost instantly now. Robin is shivering beneath the cloak before they get to the castle.

As they walk, Frederick explains what happened in more detail. Chrom can barely focus on him - thoughts swarm inside Chrom’s mind. Is Robin seriously ill, or is it just exhaustion?

 _This is my fault. I should have stayed with him…_ That thought makes him clench his jaw and tighten his arms around Robin. Realistically, he’s not sure what he would have done - or if Robin would have even tolerated his presence, but he can’t help but think he could have prevented it.

Robin mumbles something against his neck, soft and barely audible, and then subsides.

_I should have insisted. This is my fault._

“Chrom.” Lissa’s voice drags him out of his thoughts.

“What?” He glares at her.

“Robin is going to be fine,” she replies patiently. Her words don’t inspire much confidence, but he tries to relax.

When they get back to Robin’s room, the window is open. The fire in the hearth is out, and it is quite chilly. Chrom frets over the open window - had Robin been feeling feverish in the morning? If Chrom had been here, could they have avoided this? Self-recrimination floods Chrom again, and he grimaces as he carries Robin to the bed.

Lissa closes the window, exclaiming loudly at the chill, and Frederick moves to the fireplace and immediately starts stacking wood. Chrom lays Robin on the bed and pulls off his boots and belt. He tucks Robin beneath the blankets, turning him onto his side in his usual sleeping position. Chrom then caresses the white hair across his forehead with gentle fingers. He looks small and delicate and pale, at odds with that determined personality that Chrom has come to love.

“Robin,” he whispers, pressing his cheek against Robin’s hair. Robin stirs at the sound of his voice, his eyes cracking open. He reaches out from beneath the covers, and when the prince takes his hand, Robin draws it in under his chin. His eyes drift closed again. Chrom takes that as an encouraging sign - both with Robin’s health, and with… whatever lies between them.

After a moment, though, Chrom becomes aware of the delicate pulse fluttering against his fingers. He licks his lips and stares at Robin’s face, at the thin bit of neck showing above the blankets. Gods, but he wants to bite him, to mark him and claim him. It should scare Chrom that he wants to bite Robin, because Robin isn’t an omega, and he’s not even Chrom’s mate - but it doesn’t. It feels… right.

Lissa drags a chair over for Chrom, and he perches on the edge of it. “Thank you,” he says absently, focused on Robin for a few more moments. The tactician’s breathing slows, and he drifts into a deeper sleep, his grip loosening around Chrom’s hand.

The tightness in Chrom’s throat eases down. Robin is resting safely in his room, away from the others, and Chrom can relax a bit. The room is quiet and peaceful, except for the occasional crackle of the fire.

Frederick stands beside Chrom, his hands clasped behind his back. He is frowning, and even though his posture is as impeccable as always, he looks defeated. There is no dominance conflict between them now, and Chrom feels a twinge of guilt.

He doesn’t apologize for his earlier behavior, but he does say, “I’m not mad at you, Frederick. Robin collapsing was not your fault.”

Frederick sighs. “I should have watched him better. I was just trying to get everything done, and to assist him the best I could.”

“Robin can be stubborn when he sets his mind to it,” Chrom admits, rubbing his fingers across Robin’s forehead again. He looks up at Frederick with a faint smile. “You did good, sending someone to get me as soon as you did.”

Frederick opens his mouth to respond, but at that moment the door opens.

Libra sweeps in, Gaius at his heels, and goes to the other side of the bed. “Ah, Robin,” he sighs, studying his pale appearance for a moment.

Chrom refuses to leave the unconscious tactician’s side, gripping his hand tight. Libra pulls the blankets away from Robin, who shivers at the sudden cool air. Chrom growls low in his throat as Libra sits on the bed and reaches toward Robin. To his credit, the war monk seems greatly unfazed by Chrom’s defensive attitude. He murmurs a soothing prayer to Naga as he works.

Chrom forces himself to remember that Libra is here to help. With some reluctance, he sits back in the chair to give the healer space. Robin’s hand remains firmly clasped in his own.

The blonde war monk places his hand over Robin’s chest and focuses, his staff glowing faintly in his other hand. He whispers and his healing magic makes Robin’s skin glow beneath the sleeveless undershirt. Libra’s eyebrows come together in momentary concern, and Chrom bites his bottom lip to keep from interrupting and demanding what that look is for.

Libra is as quick as he can be, but Chrom is agitated and itchy by the time he pulls away. Someone else is touching _his_ Robin, and he can’t stop the possessive thoughts that rush through him. When Libra sits up, Chrom tucks the blankets in around Robin, fussing with his hair, needing to _do_ something.

“What’s ailing him?” Lissa asks.

Libra peers down at Robin, his light eyebrows coming together again. “It is exhaustion, the same as last time. The fever may be a response to a virus or a cold he’s caught in his weakened state, or it could just be that his body is trying to recover. You know healing magic is ineffective on exhaustion and natural illness. He just needs to regain his strength, and sleep is the best medicine for that. A few days rest and he’ll be good as new.”

Lissa gasps.

“A few days?” Chrom demands. His hand squeezes Robin’s tight enough that the tactician flinches away, and he immediately loosens his grip. “But that means…”

“Yes, it does,” Libra nods sadly. “He won’t be going to Plegia. Not like this. I forbid it, and I think you know it’s best for him, as well.”

Chrom glares at his own hand, tight around Robin’s mostly slack one. Libra is right. The journey will be long and hard, thanks to the Plegian invitation arriving late. If it were Frederick or Lissa, he would leave them here to recover in a heartbeat, knowing they would be safe - but just the thought of _leaving_ Robin makes him want to scream.

Chrom’s voice is strangled as he says, “You’re right, of course.” He slumps back in his chair, as Robin scrunches his nose and shifts. His decision is not an easy one - leave Robin unprotected here, or stay with him… and start things off on the wrong foot with Plegia’s new regime. The relationship with Plegia is still so rocky - and they have given Chrom little time to prepare.

Libra tells Chrom and Lissa, “When he awakens, have him eat, and then make him rest. The more he sleeps, the faster he will recover.”

Chrom’s hand rubs along Robin’s cheek, and then he meets Libra’s gentle eyes. “Thank you, Libra. I’ll send for you if he worsens.” The thought makes him feel nauseous, but he bites down the terror.

At the door, the blonde priest pauses and turns around. “I’ll prepare a sleeping draught for him. I know he likes to push himself, and he might not be willing to rest once he awakens.”

Chrom nods. “I’ll make him rest.”

There is silence for a few moments after Libra leaves. Chrom stares at the bed, his eyes moving through Robin as he thinks. Idly, he rubs Robin’s hot hand between his own.

“Now what?” Lissa asks.

“We wait,” Chrom says, and glances back at the other three in the room. He shifts the chair closer to the bed, and then settles back into it. “You don’t have to stay with me, but I’m not leaving.”

Chrom knows what he has to do with this whole Plegian situation. He’s not pleased with the decision, but it is the right one.

He has to go to Plegia, and leave Robin behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers sadly, and waits for Robin to awaken.

~*~

Robin floats. He can’t tell if he’s hot or cold, upright or lying down. At one point he looks into Chrom’s eyes, feeling his strong alpha presence soothing the heat in his skin - and then it all fades into the nothingness once more.

Voices flutter around him, snippets of conversation phasing in and out. “-looks like exhaustion… back to your room… fever… I’m sorry -”

Cool hands touch his forehead and suddenly he has a temperature, and a direction. He is lying on his side, and he is burning up.

A familiar scent is in his nose every time he breathes in, grounding him to his body. It reminds him of long nights spent studying maps, and oddly, of a strange awkward moment in a bookstore. It smells like _home_ , and when he realizes that, he knows what it is.

“Chrom,” he whispers, his throat dry and crackly. The hand petting his hair stops.

“I’m here.” That deep voice thrills along his spine.

Robin cracks his eyes open. He meets Chrom’s steady blue gaze, and he’s so exhausted that he forgets all about avoiding eye contact. Robin can see a delicate emotion in Chrom’s face, but he’s still too out of it to determine what it is.

Past Chrom’s shoulder, he sees Lissa and Frederick moving closer. Robin shifts and tries to get out from under the blankets. Anger furrows Chrom’s brow, and he growls, then reaches out a hand to Robin’s shoulder, holding him in place.

“Stay still,” Chrom says. Robin shivers even though he’s hot, and pulls the blankets tighter under his chin. He knows that tone well, and he is not going to disobey it unless he has no other choice.

After a moment, Chrom turns away, reaching for something out of Robin’s line of sight. Robin blinks and his eyes feel heavy. It feels like he is ill - his body alternates hot and cold, and his limbs tremble with weakness. He’s exhausted, and everything aches.

His hazy memory comes back in pieces. They had been preparing for their departure, and he’d collapsed. He remembers his last thought before losing consciousness had been hoping that Chrom wouldn’t find out. Why had he -

 _The kiss_. Chrom’s mouth, demanding and urgent at his lips, then trailing down to his larynx, slipping to the side, hot breath gliding over his racing pulse. The rejection - the aching misery as Chrom walked away.

It hurts him to think of it.

Robin closes his eyes, feeling full with embarrassment, with longing, with _misery_. He’s not ready to see Chrom, to speak with him about what happened, but he doesn’t want him to leave, either. His stomach aches and twists, and he curls tighter around it, clamping his teeth around a groan.

“Robin.” Chrom is back at his side instantly, concern hovering in his bright blue eyes, along with that emotion that Robin still can’t place. His hand feels cool when he rubs Robin’s forehead, and Robin relaxes with his touch. It makes the searing pain easier to bear, and after a few seconds it subsides.

He feels weak, and just lies there for a few moments, trying to slow his breathing.

“Here,” Chrom whispers. He slides a hand beneath Robin’s back and pulls Robin close to him, then helps him sit upright. His bare hand feels good against Robin’s neck. “Drink this.” It is only water, but to Robin it tastes wonderful. It soothes his dry mouth and throat, and he slowly drinks down the whole glass.

Chrom keeps a firm hold on him when the glass is empty, and to Robin’s surprise, the alpha then feeds him pieces of bread by hand. There’s a look in his eyes now, that Robin has seen before - that  _alpha_ need to be in control. That brightness in his gaze speaks to Robin on a near-subconscious level.

Robin doesn’t fight Chrom on this one. He’s so tired and his arms are trembling, and Chrom seems to be expecting his acquiescence.

Chrom speaks in low tones and short sentences as he feeds him. He explains what happened and what Libra said about Robin’s fainting, but Robin pays attention to what Chrom doesn’t say as well.

The food helps, both with the shaking and the weakness. Chrom still holds onto him, and once the plate is empty, he settles back against the headboard, Robin tight in his arms. It is a strangely intimate position, his head against Chrom’s chest, but Robin doesn’t fight it. Chrom’s alpha scent surrounds Robin more thoroughly than any blanket, and he breathes it in and tries to relax.

They sit together for a few minutes in silence, Robin’s eyelids drooping at intervals. He wants to sleep, but his mind is racing.

Eventually, when his thoughts grow too uncomfortable, Robin asks, “What about Plegia?”

Something flashes across Chrom’s eyes, and his body stiffens.

Robin struggles out of Chrom’s arms, looking at him. “You have to go, Chrom.” Robin hates this - he wants Chrom to stay so badly that it hurts, but he knows how important it is to foster a new relationship with Plegia.

“Robin-” Chrom starts, but Robin cuts him off.

“You have to go, and leave me here.”

“I know,” Chrom growls, and grips Robin’s wrist tight, stopping him. “I know I have to go. Calm down.” He drags Robin back down against his chest, and Robin stops resisting.

But Chrom seems more restless now, his breathing faster.

“Can we have a minute?” Chrom asks. Robin shivers for a moment - he and Chrom are going to be alone in his bedroom. If only he wasn’t ill… Lissa’s eyebrows rise, but she follows Frederick out. The doors closes with a loud click. The fire crackles in the hearth, and Robin stares up at Chrom, who has that funny look in his eye again.

Robin rises onto an elbow beside him and opens his mouth to say something. He’s rendered speechless in the next moment when Chrom leans in and brushes his lips against Robin’s. Robin makes a startled noise, bringing his fingers up to his mouth.

“I’m still angry with you,” Robin whispers, his heart beating faster for some reason.

“I know.” Chrom’s shoulders slump. “Robin… I’m so sorry.”

 _He’s apologizing_ , Robin thinks slowly, tilting his head in confusion. “What are you sorry for?” He closes his mouth and clamps down on the hope that is stirring in his chest, making him dizzy. He grips Chrom’s forearm to keep steady.

Chrom draws in a deep breath. He holds it for a few seconds, wiggling a leg on top of the blanket. “I was so afraid of hurting our friendship if I acted on what you were offering. I was afraid of taking it too far. But you weren’t just reacting to that omega heat - you didn’t want any alpha. You wanted me.” He says that last part so confidently, his eyes meeting Robin’s with desire, with longing.

Robin’s first instinct is to reject that statement, to protect himself from embarrassment, but his mouth won’t open. He stares back at Chrom, willing him to continue.

“You wanted me, but I pushed you away. I’m sorry for that.”

Robin narrows his eyes. He doesn’t want to forgive Chrom for that - hearing it aloud like this is another form of agony. His heart sinks, and he looks down.

Chrom continues quietly, “I didn’t know that you cared deeply for me, Robin… but I want you to know I feel the same way about you.” His fingers brush Robin’s cheek, tilting his chin up.

Robin rests his hand deliberately on Chrom’s chest. “You… do?”

“I love you,” Chrom whispers, leaning in again, and there’s that emotion in his eyes, rising up along with the alpha presence. It finally has a name. Robin’s head spins and he exhales in a rush, then moves to Chrom’s chest and presses his cheek against it. Chrom’s alpha scent makes his skin tingle beneath his shirt, and he smiles.

Chrom kisses Robin’s hair.

“But… I’m a beta.” Robin still can’t quite wrap his head around it - it feels like he’s been handed the largest gift in the world, and he has no idea what to do with it.

“It doesn’t matter. My body might want an omega, but I also want you, Robin. I want you more than any omega.”

“I love you too, Chrom.”

The winsome smile on Chrom’s face makes Robin blush, but it fills his body with warmth. They lie together for a few moments, Robin’s mind racing with excitement, lessening all of the pain from the previous two days. Frederick and Lissa come back into the room as Robin lies there with his eyes closed. And then an unpleasant thought catches, and he winces.

“You’re going to Plegia at dawn,” he says. He suspects it’s late, judging by the heavy darkness beyond the windowpanes.

Chrom exhales. “Yes.”

“Maybe I can meet you in a few days, when I’m feeling better? Or join you on your way back, at least.”

“Robin,” Chrom growls, and looks down at him. “You can think about that later. For now, I need you to rest.” Chrom presses a small vial into Robin’s hand.

“A sleeping potion?” He frowns at Chrom. “I don’t think-”

“Robin, you and I both know that you need rest to recover. And you’ve proven that you don’t know how to rest. Take it, at least for tonight. You’ll wake up tomorrow, feeling better. I need to know you’re recovering when I leave. Please.”

It is the _please_ that does it. Robin sighs. “Fine, Chrom. I’ll take it. But… will you stay with me until you have to leave?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Chrom breathes, and leans in to kiss Robin’s cheek. Robin shifts and catches the prince’s lips against his own. Chrom draws back after a second and smiles. Robin wants to do more, but his body feels both hot and cold, and he can feel that exhausted ache sliding along his spine, tingling in his legs and arms, fuzzy in his skull. He needs to sleep and recover, and Chrom is right - he doesn’t allow himself what his body needs.

Robin pulls the cork out of the little vial and gives a cautious sniff to the sleeping potion. It smells like mint. Chrom watches, his eyes gone soft and gentle. He’s probably unaware of the emotions plain on his face, and Robin soaks it up for a few moments. Suddenly Chrom’s eyes sharpen and he focuses on the still full vial. Robin drinks it down before Chrom gets impatient, and then pops the cork back into the neck of the little bottle.

Robin relaxes against Chrom, taking his wrists and circling them around himself. Chrom gets the hint and holds on tight, pressing his cheek against Robin’s head.

“I’m sorry,” Robin whispers to the alpha.

“Don’t apologize,” he chides, but his tone is soft and gentle. “Just feel better soon.”

~*~

When Robin awakens groggily the next afternoon, Chrom is long gone. He feels the absence like a physical pain in his chest, but it lessens as he remembers what they had said. _I want you more than any omega_. Those eyes, filled with alpha radiance, appear in his mind’s eye, and he silences a moan.

His body feels heavy, like he’s moving through water, and there’s a weird buzzing in the back of his brain. _The sleeping draught_. He raises a hand to his forehead and groans.

At that point he realizes that his cock is fully hard and aching - and his pants are coated in some tacky substance. _Is that… blood?_  he thinks, sitting upright with a burst of adrenaline. His head spins from the remnants of the potion, and he slumps back down with a gasp.

“Robin? Relax, you’re okay,” Maribelle coaxes, rising from the chair and setting her book aside.

Robin squints up at her, his eyes weighed down by sleep still. “I’m not - I’m bleeding,” he groans, and throws back the blankets, not caring that his erection is obvious in his pants. He stares down, expecting to see blood - but the substance is clear.

“What?” Robin asks, panting.

“Robin…” Maribelle says, her pupils wide and dark in her pale blue eyes. “You’re not bleeding - you’re going into heat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t plan for these scenes to take up this much space, but I’m glad that I had a chance to really flesh out Chrom’s POV. I feel like this explains a lot of Chrom’s reactions to this point, and what he does going forward should make more sense. 
> 
> Just so it’s clear, Robin collapsed from a combination of not eating or drinking for the past twenty-four hours, combined with the stresses of his body getting ready for his heat. I think I’ve mentioned before (I can’t remember if it was in a note or a response to a comment), but Robin hasn’t had a heat in at least a year, since the incident that left him in that field with no memories. His body is doing some weird things as it "resets" which includes his scent and the "stomach cramps" he was feeling.
> 
> It looks like there’s one more chapter for this one, maybe two? Please let me know if you have any questions or want clarification on anything. As always, thank you for reading, and comments are much appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s some dub-con (dubious consent) elements in this chapter. Also, this chapter is VERY NSFW.

_”You’re going into heat.”_

Those words burn through him, dispelling the lingering fog from the sleeping draught.

Robin stares at Maribelle for a few moments, aware that his mouth is hanging open. She draws in a breath, her petite nostrils expanding, and a shudder runs through her body. Alpha surges into her eyes, and then she backs away, her hands out between them, pressing against the air.

It seems impossible, what she is saying. He blinks, and then reaches down to the heavy wetness. Words tumble from his mouth. “No, that can’t be right. I’m a beta…”

His finger shifts the soaked fabric between his legs, trying to find the source so he can inspect it himself - and the brief contact between his legs makes his body throb with awareness. Sensation thrills up his spine and draws a soft sigh from his mouth.

Reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers. Robin forces his eyes open, unaware of when exactly he’d closed them. His fingers are not red, so it is definitely not blood. It is a slippery clear liquid, slightly tacky, and he thinks it came out of his...

The skin on his cheeks feels warm. “I can’t be going into heat. Maribelle…?” It almost sounds like a plea, but she doesn’t answer.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Maribelle is hanging on to her poise by a thread. Her hand grips the footboard with white knuckles, betraying her state of mind. Her pupils are heavy and large in her face, filled with alpha dominance.

Despite the fact that Robin is more interested in men than women, he feels that draw. It calls to him, beckons to something deep within, an itchy urge. A warning flashes through her gaze, and he glances away from her eyes - and right into Frederick’s.

Frederick's presence takes Robin completely by surprise - he hadn't even known the other alpha was in the room, but now that he's noticed him, Robin can't look away. From this distance Robin can tell he is breathing hard, his chest expanding rapidly.

Those brown eyes pin him to the bed, communicating exactly what Frederick would like to do to him.

There’s an eager whining noise somewhere nearby, and it takes a few seconds for Robin to realize it’s coming from his own mouth. As soon as he realizes that, the sound stops.

Something wet and slick is creeping out of his ass, and the magnitude of it all hits him.

“Oh, gods,” Robin groans. He is an omega… he has to be, for Maribelle and Frederick to react this way. For his own body to be leaking what is most likely lubrication. For how much he _wants_.

He shifts, uncomfortable with how Frederick is looking at him, but when he moves he puts pressure on his asshole. Heated feeling floods his body, and he lets out a yip, digging his hands into the sheets at his side. The expression in Frederick’s eye changes, grows more intense at the sound, and Robin starts whining again.

Desire and control war within him - he wants Frederick to come closer, but also to stay away. That unflinching look is crashing into his determination like relentless waves against a crumbling cliff.

Frederick steps around the foot of the bed, hand tight on the bedpost, and Robin tenses up. A sharp bitterness floats through the air.

Maribelle’s voice is strong and pointed. “Frederick, he is Chrom’s.”

Robin blinks at the mention of his alpha’s name, and the spell between them is broken. His body tightens and _aches_ at the memory of the blue-haired prince all but curled around him last night, as he fell asleep.

“Chrom,” he whispers hopefully.

A strange, sharp clarity fills him, pushing the desire away like clouds parting in the sky, revealing the sun. He knows it won’t last, but he’s grateful nonetheless for the temporary respite.

Robin had no idea that being in heat would feel like _this_. Impartial books can describe it, but the experience, even this little bit he’s had so far, is so different from his understanding. It’s a wonder that any omega can function at this point.

And he has the feeling it’s going to get much worse.

“Back off,” Maribelle says to Frederick, still using that direct tone.

Frederick growls low in his throat at the command, turning to Maribelle. Even though she is smaller than the knight, she raises her head high and challenges him, her hands spread out between them.

“Enough, Frederick. Chrom left you here to keep him safe, and that’s what we must do.” She eyes him another second, and the knight spins away from both of them, his back a long hard line of frustration. He strides to the tall dresser and presses his forehead against it.

Maribelle exhales and returns her eyes to Robin. There is much less desire in her gaze now, although it is still present somewhat. “I’m sorry, Robin, but you _are_ going into heat.” She shakes her head, and her voice takes on an uncertain tone. “I’ve heard of omegas missing cycles before, but I have no idea how you have gone without one for this long. You didn’t smell like an omega until five minutes ago.”

When Frederick turns around some of that tension in his body has faded. “My apologies, Robin,” he says, keeping his eyes down on the crumpled blankets. “I haven’t seen a male omega in over ten years. I’d forgotten how… fascinating they are to me.”

A fresh round of heated desire floods Robin, and he thinks he smells it. Frederick… likes men, the same as Robin. He barely keeps from moaning his pleasure by biting his tongue. He cannot speak, even to tell Frederick he forgives him, because he’s afraid of what he might say.

As if from far away, he hears Frederick and Maribelle speaking, but he can't focus on them for a few moments. His body burns, and he shuts his eyes and tries to calm that hypersensitivity.

Eventually their voices come into focus again.

“-can’t be that far along,” Frederick says.

“We should send someone to let Chrom know,” Maribelle responds. “He should be here for this.” Robin’s eyes pop open, the heaviness of his heat receding as the anxiety rushes in. Frederick nods in agreement, neither of them looking to Robin for his opinion.

If Chrom finds out Robin is in heat - he will come back.

“No. No, we can’t,” Robin says breathlessly, and the two alphas turn their attention to him.

His heart beats faster at the thought that after all that he and Chrom have done, after all the sacrifices that Ylisse has made, /Robin would be the one that destroys the careful balance.

After Emmeryn’s death, he realized that there was more at stake here than just the result of one battle. He had pledged himself to defending Ylisse, to keeping it safe from Plegia, and this coronation was hopefully the next step in obtaining that goal. He still needs to make amends for Emmeryn’s death… and allowing Frederick to tell Chrom is a step in the opposite direction. He needs to convince Frederick.

Robin shakes his head, continuing with a stronger voice, “He _has_ to go to Plegia. Do not call him back. It’s just…” Robin pauses, stumbling over the words, part of his mind still balking at the change within him. “It’s just an omega heat. I’ll be fine without him.”

Frederick’s eyes snap and he steps forward. Robin shrinks back from that intensity. “It is not _just_ an omega heat. Unless you’ve been hiding this from us for the past year, which is highly unlikely, this is your first heat.”

Robin stares at him, his mouth dry. He’s right. Robin had read that an omega’s first heat, the one that starts a new cycle, is generally the strongest and most severe. Given his age, Robin probably isn’t a virgin, but he still feels like one. A virgin omega, whose body is ready to mate.

The pulse of desire that runs through him at that raises goosebumps along his arms. It would be so easy to just give in, to ask Frederick to call Chrom back. Already he is craving an alpha touch - Chrom’s alpha presence to help him through this. He _wants_ Chrom, needs him to be here - but he’s the prince. Robin knows if Chrom learns that he is in heat, he will come back to Ylisse, and severely cripple their chances at restoring peace with Plegia.

The two desires struggle within him, and it is Frederick who unintentionally breaks him from that inner conflict.

In the brief pause, Frederick turns away from the bed, and is headed for the door.

“Frederick,” Robin breathes.

The alpha slowly turns back at his name as if he’s being pulled. He waits, arms crossed over his chest.

Robin tries to swallow, to focus past that voice in the back of his mind, the voice suggesting that he call Frederick to him and let him soothe this ache. “Please don’t send for him. I'll get through this without him, somehow.” He doesn’t mean for that last word to slip out, but it does anyway.

Frederick narrows his eyes. “Robin,” he begins, his tone chiding. He thinks Robin is mistaken. He believes he knows best - and that attitude fills Robin with focus.

Robin surges upright, gasping at the delightful, aching feeling in his ass, but remains focused. “No, Frederick! I asked you to not tell Chrom yesterday, and you ran right to him as soon as I collapsed. Chrom can't come back. It will ruin everything we've worked so hard for, and you and I both know this. You owe me, for yesterday.”

Robin sits there panting, his hands laced together in his lap (for if he doesn't keep a firm hold he's certain he's going to put them somewhere inappropriate), and stares down an excited alpha.

It isn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, but to his surprise, it works.

Frederick backs up, his eyes snapping. Robin swears he can taste his anger, and it distracts him. He wonders, almost absently, how it will feel prickling along his skin - but the knight turns. He sweeps to the door, opens it, and then passes through without another word or glance back.

Robin has a funny feeling that his words hadn’t been enough to sway Frederick… but after that alpha display, he finds that he doesn’t care very much about the outcome. His skin feels tight, restrictive, and the sheets feel rough under his fingers.

“I'll… get Libra,” Maribelle says, and turns to follow Frederick.

As soon as the door closes, he leans back and raises his hips, hissing with the shifting pressure. His hand moves of its own will now, finally freed to satisfy that burning itch. It brushes across the sodden pants and digs in, and he cries out aloud at the sensation.

If there is any lingering doubt in his mind that he is in heat, this erases all of it. All he wants is to force his finger in deeper, to be filled with something. To be filled by Chrom.

He groans at the vivid image that accompanies that thought, and his eyes roll back.

A few weeks ago, romance had been far from his mind - and now, he can think of nothing else for long without drifting back to the thought of carnal pleasure. His body is ready for it, ready and demanding.

With Frederick and Maribelle gone, there’s nothing to hold back for. A fresh wave of desire floods him, splashing across his insides like goosebumps. His hands go where they will, and before long he’s stroking at his cock, pressing his pants against his leaking asshole, whining softly with what he might call desperation if he were in his right mind. A small part of him is amazed at the intensity of his desire, but that thought flits away, leaving him with nothing but the burning ache, and his hads desperately trying to satisfy it.

“Robin?” A cool hand brushes against his forehead.

His eyes fly open. Libra is standing beside the bed.

Robin has no idea how much time has passed since Frederick and Maribelle left. He can smell Libra’s arousal, but the priest is holding himself well in check. No hint of desire appears in the healer’s demeanor. With Frederick, it had been magnetic, but Robin is able to resist this pull easily.

“I can tell now that you are in heat, but there was no scent yesterday,” Libra says, taking a cautious sniff. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch these signals earlier.”

The beta’s apology returns Robin to himself, and embarrassment floods his body, pushing the urges down a bit.

“Not your fault,” he whispers. He withdraws his hands, realizing that the liquid seeping out of him is starting to soak the sheets, and his fingers are coated in it. It feels like his skin has been left out in the Plegian sun to burn. He wipes his hand on the sheets, panting like he’s run across Ylisstol.

“You don't need to stop that on my account,” Libra soothes, placing a tray on the chair beside the bed.

Robin shifts onto his side, clenching his jaw. The beta continues, “I’ve been bringing Olivia and Lon’qu food - I know what happens when an omega is in heat. How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” Robin growls. He stares at the food, at the staff that is leaning against the chair, the water swishing back and forth in the glass - anywhere except the beta’s face as his asshole clenches and throbs. Robin bites his bottom lip to keep from making noise, all too aware of the warmth painting his cheeks as his body rocks uncontrollably.

Libra continues speaking as if this is commonplace. “I am going to make certain you are recovered enough from your illness yesterday, and help you eat something before this gets much stronger.”

As Libra raises his staff and presses that cooling hand against Robin’s chest, Robin asks, “Can you give me… another sleeping draught? I can sleep through all this...” Robin trails off as Libra shakes his head.

“No, I’m afraid I cannot. It has had ill effects on omegas in the past.”

Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Disappointment cools his skin somewhat, and he can smell the slight change in his scent.

Robin chances a glance at Libra, and the concern in his slightly tilted mouth is nearly too much. He closes his eyes again, body trembling.

The exam is quick, the silence in his room broken by his sharp little breaths. Another wave of longing surges through him at the touch of skin. It is agony to know that relief is so close, but he holds on to what little shred of dignity remains. In all likelihood, he won’t feel any embarrassment in a few hours - Olivia had been dancing for the crowd rather shamelessly, before she and Lon’qu had retreated.

Libra tugs the sheet over him when he’s done, and Robin protests weakly. “Go ahead,” Libra says, looking away. He’s offering some privacy, Robin realizes. Even though Libra knows exactly what he is doing, the sheet offers Robin just enough coverage that he can pretend. Robin lets out a hiss as his fingers slip the fabric against his asshole. Tears of relief prickle his eyes.

Libra feeds him bites of meat and cheese, studiously ignoring what Robin is doing. When he is almost done with the whole plate, Robin remembers that Chrom had fed Robin by hand, as well. He gasps softly, eyelids fluttering closed as he thinks of Chrom’s protective arms around him. His skin flushes with heat, and he squirms and tugs the shirt off over his head. His skin is a little sweaty, but he feels a lot better without the fabric tight against his chest.

“Robin, listen to me for a moment,” Libra says, his voice taking on a hint of command.

It is nothing like the alpha presence he really desires, and yet it still catches his attention. His head comes up and he stares right at Libra. The beta blinks, but explains, “I’m going to leave, but someone will be posted at your door. If you need anything, please ring this bell.” He motions to the chair, where a small handbell sits on the tray, along with a pitcher of water and a glass.

“Thank you,” Robin says, and he means more than just the bell.

Libra brings his hands together, smiles, and bows.

Robin tosses the sheet off of him as soon as he is alone again. The wave of desire has retreated temporarily, enough that he can think. There’s no doubt it will come crashing back soon enough.

 _I can do this_ , he thinks. Mind over body. His heat is a force of nature, a burning sensation rising through him, but he’s fought against sleep-deprivation, against elemental storms. In desperate situations he had pushed his body past the point where he thought he would drop of exhaustion. He had incited the Shepherds into fighting when they were too tired to think, tightening their ranks and forcing them to focus again.

He’d brought Chrom back from that all-encompassing fury that nearly destroyed them all in the Midmire.

Thinking of Chrom back in that sodden, desperate battle is a mistake. His body _wants_ Chrom, urgently. The phantom memory of Chrom’s alpha power rolling across his skin makes the weave of his clothing tingle and burn against too-sensitive skin. He can almost feel Chrom’s mouth against his, devouring, demanding, but when he reaches out Chrom isn’t there. Robin arches his back, thrusting his ass down into the soft bed.

Another mistake, although not one he chose consciously.

Robin’s eyes roll back in his head and a whine bursts from his throat as shifting puts pressure _down there_. His erection aches against his pants, and his ass clenches uncomfortably. Emptiness echoes back to him - Robin is surprised by the intensity with which he feels it. And then his lower body tightens with a very familiar cramping sensation.

He rolls onto his side and forces his body still, and after an uncounted amount of time, the desire and the pain subside. Ragged breathing fills the space around him, and he realizes it is his own after a few seconds.

Robin opens his eyes and peers up at the time-candle, drawing in deep breaths as he focuses.

He guesses it has been a few hours since he awoke. When had he started his heat? Some point after Chrom left, most likely.

Would Chrom have stayed, if he knew? Would Chrom have helped him through his heat… would he mate-

He can almost feel Chrom’s heated body pressed against the back of his own - naked and sweaty, his cock slick from the insistent lubrication seeping from his asshole. That voice floats across his skin, murmuring sweet, loving things, alpha in every syllable - and he’s gone, the sensations _too_ real.

Robin ends up on his knees, ass up, shoulders and chest down. His skin prickles, and he’s barely aware that he’s fumbling his pants down. The waistband gets caught against his own erection, applying pressure, and he lets out a bark of impatience, of need.

His asshole is slippery beneath his fingers, but he doesn’t even think about how weird and awkward and unlike himself this is - he shoves two fingers deep inside.

“Ahhh,” he moans, his other hand clutching at the pillow. Clarity returns with his fingers wedged inside of him. He can do this. He can survive this heat without Chrom.

Less than a minute later, that heavy desire flushes him again, and his groan is one of absolute frustration.

~*~

Chrom stares down at his lonely cot as he unbuckles his shoulder pauldron. The lantern by the bed flickers against the damp chill that has seeped into the thin tent walls. After the few weeks of luxury spent in the palace, this will be a rough night - the first of several, made all the worse for Robin’s absence. His body has protested Robin’s absence all day, itchy discomfort becoming almost unbearable at points.

Outside, the camp is quiet, the drizzle coating everything in a layer of silence.

Setting off at first light had been difficult. His chosen companions were tense, both from the very real expectation of danger in Plegia, and from the fact that their tactician was not coming with them. Over the last few months they had all come to depend on Robin, an unfair weight pressed on his shoulders out of necessity and his willingness to take it. They were understandably concerned for his well-being, but without Robin, there was a greater chance that something could go wrong.

Chrom _misses_ Robin, with a sharpness that makes his body tingle.

He’d spent much of the night awake, even after Robin succumbed to the potion. Chrom lay quiet and still beside him, listening to his even breathing. It soothed something within him that had been agitated for a long time, and he’d fallen asleep with Robin’s comforting weight in his arms.

When Frederick woke Chrom to get ready for the day, Robin hadn’t stirred. Leaving that warm bed had been difficult, but he had done it.

With... Emm gone, he is in charge. As much as it hurts to think of, he now has to bear her responsibility. He will stand strong in her memory, even if it means pretending to make nice with the next Plegian king, when all he truly wants to do is raze Plegia to the ground for Emm’s death.

He shakes his head, forcing the complex emotions he feels from those memories away. With a sigh, he sets the armor and his folded cape on the sack in the corner. As he sits on the cot to remove his boots, his thoughts stray back to a more pleasant subject - Robin. He is hopefully sleeping right now, with Frederick there to protect him.

Chrom can think of no one he trusts more to take care of Robin. Frederick had been the one to send for him when Robin collapsed. Before they departed from Ylisstol, Frederick had pulled him aside, and offered to stay. Frederick wanted to atone for not paying attention, and while Chrom had been quick to point out that Frederick had done nothing wrong, they both agreed it would be best for Frederick to stay. It made Chrom feel better about leaving, and he knew Frederick would send a messenger if anything was amiss with Robin’s recovery.

He closes his eyes and thinks of Robin asleep, covers tucked up to his chin, and a surge of protective energy floods him. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up to Robin in his state, partially because he’s uncertain how it is physically possible… but Chrom feels a connection between them, almost as if they are mated. Robin is a beta, and Chrom an alpha. Chrom suspects it is just the newness of their relationship… but what if it isn’t? He had felt that desire back in the hallway, to bite Robin’s neck, that spot where his pulse beat close to the surface. Robin had bared his neck to Chrom, a perfect, willing submission.

Chrom has never been mated before, but alphas are taught about their sexuality when they have their first rut. He knows of the mate-bond, and he has a feeling that he and Robin have started it, somehow. They may not be able to complete it, but Chrom really wants to try.

That thought runs excitement and anticipation through him, and he shifts his hips, aware of the stirring in his groin. He cannot wait for this coronation to be over, so he can return to Robin.

He turns the lantern, casting the room into shadows, and curls into the blankets. Sleep proves illusive, his body missing Robin’s warmth, his dick aroused by his thoughts.

Chrom doesn’t normally satisfy himself while in camp, but he’s exhausted from the previous night, and usually release helps him sleep. He obtains a cloth from his satchel and lies back. Unsurprisingly, as soon as his hand touches his erection, all he can think of is Robin.

He bites his lips to hold back any noise and grips his length. His knot swells at the base of his cock as he strokes up and down. It doesn’t usually do that by his hand alone, unless he is in rut, but he pushes that thought aside, easily explained away by Robin’s almost presence in his mind.

He imagines soft moans from Robin’s mouth as the beta rides above him, his hands pressing against Chrom’s chest for balance. His asshole is tight and warm, wrapped around Chrom’s dick, and Robin cries out as Chrom reaches up and captures his hips, pulling down as Chrom thrusts up. Robin looks down at him, sweat gathering on his delicious skin, and utters his name, his eyes demanding all of Chrom. Chrom reaches up and pulls Robin to him, nose to nose, and Robin moans as Chrom thrusts in again.

The orgasm takes him hard, his thigh muscles tightening and a gasp bursting from his mouth as he comes. For precious seconds, all he can feel is that wonderful wave rushing through him, and the phantom touch of Robin around his length, pressed against his body.

He relaxes gradually, savoring the lingering sensations. He reaches for the cloth to clean himself up, and sighs. Part of him wonders what it will feel like to actually do the things he just imagined. A smile brushes his face at the thought.

His body feels warm and boneless, and he drifts into welcome sleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot more to write still... so in all likelihood the next chapter won't be the end. :) I really appreciate all the comments and positive responses to this fic! 
> 
> Also, a shout out to SML/ Tales of Chrom, for helping me with my "plot" issues...
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the last chapter! There's going to be at least one more. 
> 
> There is another section that looks...pretty dubious consent in here. Just a warning.

Chapter 6

Time passes, and Robin's heat settles in. His skin crawls with need, and waves of desire sweep through him, leaving him panting and gasping in their wake. He discovers very quickly that he can't bring himself to orgasm, and that touching his erection only makes it worse. It’s really his other side that craves the attention, though - he wants to be filled, and his fingers aren’t enough.

Exhaustion sets in when he's not out of his skin and mind with the heat, and he dozes off, only to be awoken by the insistent urge cramping his stomach and groin. Robin knows the pain and ache are normal for an omega in heat, but that fact doesn't help when he feels so empty... and lonely. He misses Chrom, and sometimes he calls his name aloud, hoping it will magically conjure the alpha to his side.

_Chrom has something important to attend to,_ he reminds himself, but can’t recall what it is. His mind, the one thing he prides himself on, that everyone appreciates him for… is completely useless.

The door opens, and Robin is wide awake again, drawn out from his thoughts. His breathing is steady, if a bit fast, and his fingers are deep inside. He lies there, still and quiet, and for an instant he feels normal again. If Robin didn't know better, he would almost think it was all just a fever-dream, but the sweat and the scent permeating the room prove otherwise.

He can't do more than open his eyes and stare at the wall. By the ambient light from the window, he thinks it may be morning.

And then the urge rushes back into him, and he curls up tighter, pressing his fingers in.

“Chrom?” he breathes. Part of him hopes it's not Chrom, but he can't quite remember why. He would almost take any alpha at this point, just to cool the burn. Almost.

When he scents the person approaching, he knows it's the opposite of what he wants.

“No, Robin, it's me. Olivia.” The petite dancer glides to the side of the bed, her pink hair flowing unbound down her shoulders. Robin’s eyes go to her neck, to the mate mark bold against her soft skin. It makes him crave a mark of his own, for an alpha to claim him.

When Robin closes his eyes he can practically feel Chrom’s teeth at his neck, the touch of his hands along his body.

He takes another shaky breath and the smell returns him to his senses.

“Olivia? But you…”

She sets down the platter she’s carrying, and sits right on the bed beside him. Her eyes are heavy and her body lacks that usual energy and poise, but she seems alert enough. Her hand smooths the hair back from his slightly damp forehead, her wrist brushing his cheek, and he turns his nose toward her skin and breathes in deeply.

She smells like comfort and calm. Muscles that have been tense and tight for hours ease down, and relieved tears flood his eyes. Robin reaches up and grips her arm with both hands, keeping it close and breathing in again. He’d read something a long time ago about omegas helping each other through their heats, but he didn’t realize what it meant until now. Her scent, the opposite of what he wants, pushes that desire away. It will come back, though - of that he is certain. This relief is just temporary.

“My heat is over. Lon’qu is waiting outside for me.” He can hear the smile in her voice as she mentions her mate. “Libra asked me to sit with you for a bit, to see if it would help.”

She continues touching his forehead, and he blinks tiredly at her. Robin’s eyelids grow heavy in the absence of that burning desire. “You'll get through this, Robin. It feels like it will last forever, but it will end. We can talk more when you're feeling up to it, but for now just try to relax. Libra said you haven’t been drinking… let me help you with that.”

Robin doesn’t know how Libra knows that… which makes him suspect that Libra has been in here without him noticing. He's surprised to feel embarrassment flush his cheeks - after what he'd done over the past hours, to even have a shred of dignity left is somewhat amusing.

In the absence of the urge to mate, thoughts return. He finally voices the question he’s been asking himself since he awoke.

“Olivia… Why now?” It is difficult to articulate, to speak through his dry mouth and the fog still lingering in his head, but he wants to know. “After all this time…”

She catches his shoulders, bringing him partially upright. The shift draws his attention back to places he had been trying to ignore, and a whine bursts from him.

A glass touches his lips and she says, “Please, drink.”

He does, and the cool water splashes past chapped lips and into his dry throat.

As he drinks, she tells him, “I've heard of this before, where an omega goes into dormancy in times of great stress. You've heard of the fight or flight response?” He nods. “It's similar to that. You've been under a lot of stress lately, so your body couldn't cope with the added stress of going into heat. Until now.” She blushes as a thought crosses her mind, and puts down the empty glass. “My heat might have started yours… or it might be that the fighting is over, and you’re safe.”

“Or Chrom,” Robin adds, closing his eyes. With Olivia touching him it's so much easier to think, but he can already feel the seconds shifting by, the sand in the hourglass dripping past him.

“That too,” Olivia says, her fingers soothing against his forehead. He relaxes against her, head falling against her shoulder. “Is he your mate?”

Robin opens his eyes and tilts to meet her gaze. A small smile darts across his mouth, and he feels warmth inside that has nothing to do with his heat. “Not yet,” he breathes, and she smiles back.

She stays with him for a few more minutes, until he rouses, desire pooling once more in his groin. “I’m going to go,” Olivia whispers, probably smelling his increasing arousal.

“Thank you,” he says, and takes her hand. Robin can't give voice to what exactly he's grateful for, but it's significantly more than this little reprieve.

“You’re welcome.” She ducks her head, embarrassed by his gratitude. “I’ll be back in a little while to check up on you.”

Her eyes are full of patient understanding as she rises.

That look is so much better than pity. She’s been where he is now, and she came through to the other side, still herself. And he can, too.

He manages to wait until the door shuts before shoving his fingers back inside.

~*~

That first morning on the road, Chrom sleeps late.

Half-awake, he reaches for Robin’s soothing presence, can nearly feel the heat from his skin... and then his hand encounters the cold edge of the cot. That pleasant memory is pushed aside, leaving unfounded frustration in its place. Chrom’s eyes spring open. He stifles a groan as he remembers he is alone in his tent.

The sound of his companions breaking camp filters in, and sunlight paints the east wall in radiance.

Regret at giving in to his desire last night floods him, quickly growing into a foul mood as he rises and dresses in chilled clothes. This is going to be a long trip if he can't get himself under control, but the agitation doesn’t calm down.

_Maybe some coffee will help_ , he thinks, avoiding the real reason he’s worked up - Robin is safe in Frederick’s care.

He stalks into the center of their camp, right up to the fire, and Lissa hands him a mug. She studies him for a moment or two before dropping her eyes - he thinks she senses something is off, but she doesn’t comment, and he doesn’t feel up to speaking yet.

The sun glances through the camp, and golden light hits his eyes as he looks around. His is one of the last tents standing, and as he drinks his coffee and chews on some rather tasteless rations, Nowi and Tharja dismantle it. Nowi’s cheerful giggle is a strange counterpoint to Tharja’s low murmur. Everyone seems to be in better spirits now that the weather has changed, but Chrom can't shake this dread feeling that something is wrong.

“We’re almost ready to go,” Lissa informs Chrom, and he grunts in response.

“What’s wrong, Chrom? Missin’ Robin already?” Vaike jokes, as he comes up beside him. Drawing attention to Chrom’s mood and the apparent cause of it only makes him angrier.

Chrom turns to the other alpha with a snarl, poking a finger into his bare chest. “Don’t even speak his name.”

Vaike’s eyebrows rise, and then he glares back. “It's not like I'm laying claim to him. It was a joke!”

“I'm not amused,” Chrom says, his body vibrating with fury. “And _I_ laid claim to Robin.”

Vaike’s eyes snap and he opens his mouth to say something else. Instantly, Chrom’s hand bunches into a fist, and he hits Vaike, hard.

Vaike stumbles back, eyes wide with shock, and then leaps at Chrom with a shout - and then several people are between them, pulling the alphas apart.

Lissa grabs Chrom's arm, and her presence brings him back to himself, somewhat. He follows her from the fire in a daze, rubbing at his cheek. Vaike had broken the skin, either with a rough punch or a scratch from a fingernail. Their little spat was over so fast Chrom can’t remember the details.

“Chrom, what in Naga’s name was that?” Lissa demands when they are past his tent and out of earshot from the others. She drops his arm and inspects his face, noting the cut on his cheek. He exhales and brushes her hand away.

Chrom wishes he knew. He just punched Vaike over nothing, a slight comment that he should have just brushed off. There's a buzzing in his head and he's suddenly aware that he's _hard_ …

It hits him all at once. He has experienced this before… but never out of cycle.

Chrom meets Lissa’s gaze, and she drops her eyes submissively. “I think I’m going into rut,” he says.

Lissa gasps. “What? Are you sure?”

He nods grimly. Now that he’s realized it, he notes all the usual signs, that stirring deep within his groin, the agitation and unease seeping into his limbs. Even the urge to satisfy himself last night had been a product of his body entering into alpha rut.

Normal ruts occur every six months, at least for Chrom, and he’s usually aware of the approach well before it is upon him. It is a way to prove to potential mates that he is virile and able.

Lissa looks at him with wide eyes. “Is this because of Ro-"

His skin tingles as she starts to say that name, and he makes a quick gesture, palm out toward her.

“Don't say it,” he growls, his other hand curled tight at his side. He draws in a breath and closes his eyes, trying to calm himself.

Chrom doesn’t like the thought of Robin being so far away, and even Frederick’s offer to protect him isn’t enough. It has to be Chrom, keeping Robin safe. He nearly whimpers as he imagines himself curled up around Robin, protecting his weakened mate. Right now, it isn’t about sex, but about comfort and protection.

He’s never felt this urge to... nest, before.

When he opens his eyes, Lissa has taken a couple of steps back, her nostrils flaring. He must be emanating a powerful alpha scent, although he doesn’t really smell himself. “Chrom?” she asks, keeping her eyes down. “Are you okay?”

“...Yes.”

He recalls his thoughts about the mate-bond from yesterday, and suddenly the reason for this rut is clear. Robin _is_ his mate, and he’s abandoned him in his time of need. That stress must have triggered this.

_What am I going to do?_

He can’t assume it will be like all his other ruts - it could well last longer, be more intense. Continuing on to Plegia could be a big mistake… especially with how alpha he is acting.

But not going could be an even larger mistake.

Robin will be disappointed if he doesn't go. That thought hurts, and he closes his eyes, forcing himself to think logically about it. His tactician wouldn’t fault him for this. He might be upset, but he would understand. He’s never looked down on anyone for their nature, not even when Chrom lost control during that fight in the Midmire.

The prince takes deep breaths and his heart stops its frantic racing.

“Chrom?” Lissa asks softly. “What do you want to do?”

He really wants to return to Ylisstol and fuck Robin senseless - but an alpha rut is not the time to explore their new relationship. He knows Robin has not been with another person, beta or alpha, since Chrom and Lissa found him sleeping on the ground, and Chrom won’t be gentle right now. Not the way Robin needs him to be.

He’s distracted from responding by a call from the edge of camp. “A rider from the East!”

_From Ylisstol_ … Concern pools in his stomach. He and Lissa rush to the edge of camp, watching as the familiar green-clad rider gallops up.

“I’m glad… I caught you... before you left,” Stahl pants, swinging down from his saddle and catching the stirrup as he sways on his feet. He looks exhausted, and his horse is winded, hanging its head. Sumia steps up and takes his horse, leading it away to cool down. Stahl looks around and then spots Chrom.

“Let me talk with him first, Chrom,” Lissa asks, tugging on Chrom's sleeve and dragging his attention back to her. “With how you're acting… it would probably be best.”

His skin itches like he's wearing a wool sweater, and he is incredibly agitated. It's probably for the best to have Lissa soften the news, but he doesn't have to like it.

Chrom frowns, and reluctantly nods.

Lissa pulls Stahl aside, speaking in a low tone that Chrom can't make out. He waits nearby as Lissa listens to Stahl’s message. Her hand goes to her mouth and she stares at the messenger for a moment.

Chrom is nearly vibrating with worry. _I_ _should have stayed with him… something awful has happened_. A growl burns his throat and he lets it out.

Lissa comes over to him after a few more exchanges, her eyes narrowed. “It's okay, Chrom. He's fine.”

“You're lying,” Chrom says.

“I think if you knew what was happening it would make it even worse, Chrom. Your rut.”

“I don't care. Tell me!”

She glances up at him with those soft blue eyes, and he stares back. She doesn’t know what this feels like for him, fearing the worst about Robin. His body is tearing him apart from the inside, until he wants to scream, or claw at his own arms.

“Please, Lissa,” he growls, trying for calm.

“His fever still hasn't broken,” Lissa says softly. “He’s fine, really, Maribelle and Libra are looking after him…”

A thick fog rolls into his head, a rushing sound in his ears, every muscle in his body gone rigid. Robin's fever hasn't broken.

Robin needs him.

“We have to go back,” he says, likely interrupting her. Frustration claws its way up his spine. Robin needs him to be there, as his friend and his mate. His presence will help Robin get better. It has to.

“Robin needs me,” he repeats, louder, grabbing her shoulders. She stares at him, wide-eyed, forgetting that he’s an alpha in rut. Lissa opens her mouth, but he's past the point where he can process her argument. “Robin  _needs_ me, and damned Plegia can wait!”

“Okay, Chrom, okay. We’ll go back.” Lissa extends her hands toward him.

The breath leaves him in a relieved rush. He drops his hands from her shoulders.

Chrom's panic suddenly turns into purpose. He’s still the prince, and he needs to make certain Plegia knows that he won’t be attending the ceremony.

He moves to Stahl, and the knight raises his head, avoiding Chrom’s gaze but still watching.

“Stahl, thank you for the message. I'm sending you ahead to Plegia with…” He scans the gathered Shepherds and picks out two of his strongest fighters. “Panne and Nowi. Recover your strength here and then give my regrets to the Plegian king.” He looks around at the rest, who wait on his orders.

_Hang on, Robin,_ he thinks. _I’ll be home soon._  

~*~

Sunset. Robin can see it through the window, a deep orange glow cast across the wall. The painful cramps stopped some time ago, for which he is grateful, but the waves of desire are coming harder and longer. They hurt, but in a different way, like someone has set an Arcfire spell to his bones, in his blood and marrow. His body melts into the bed, too hot to contain him, and when the urge leaves, he feels cold and clammy, and feverish.

That wave is drawing away now, and relative clarity and awareness flood him. He wants - _needs_ \- something to fill him. He's empty, and suddenly he can't think of why he wants to stay empty. He needs someone to claim him, to mark him and fill him. 

There’s a flash of blue eyes in his mind, the tightness of Chrom’s hands wrapped around him, alpha scent and power flooding his skin. He moans and buries his face in the sheets, lost in the imagined sensations for a few agonizing moments.

Robin crawls across the tangled sheets and reaches for the bell that Libra left him ages ago. The small handle feels rough against his fingers, but he grips it tight. As he shakes it, the clear sharp sound slithers down his spine. Libra told him to ring the bell if he needed anything, and he knows exactly what he needs. The thought of relief, so close, makes his muscles turn to jelly.

He slumps back down to the bed, and the bell falls to the floor with a hollow clunk. His cock is aching, pressed between the bed and his stomach, making his whole lower half throb. Slick lubrication oozes from his asshole, the near-constant production increasing in anticipation. Robin lets out a little whine as he slips his fingers back inside.

He doesn't have to wait long.

The door opens.

“Chrom,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“No, it's not Chrom,” the familiar voice says. Robin can't place the speaker immediately, but as he comes closer, he can smell him.

Beta. Libra.

“What do you need, Robin?”

Robin forces his eyes open, stares up at Libra, who looks back at him calmly. What does he need?

The next wave is approaching, cresting inside of him. He wants it to stop, to ride that wave instead of getting swept away. Robin has only seen the ocean once, but he's read accounts of sailors caught at sea during a storm. It seems to him an apt description of what is going on in his body right now.

What does he need?

“Chrom.”

Libra’s eyebrows come together, and there's that pity again.

Robin winces away, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes against it.

Libra’s voice grates against him, although he knows that the beta is being as soothing as he always is. “Robin, Chrom isn't back yet. I'm not sure when he's going to return.”

“Frederick,” he whimpers, and digs his fingers into the sheets. Fresh sweat breaks out over his skin, desire rushing through him. “Need Frederick.”

“Robin, are you certain...” Libra begins, but the rest of his question is lost to the flood of base need.

When his awareness returns, Libra is gone, and Frederick is there in his place.

Alpha slithers across Robin's skin, the scent filling his nose. His skin comes alive, hyper-aware of the sweat building up on his forehead, the brush of fabric against him. He’s aware of how naked he is, in the presence of that alpha power.

Robin looks up and his breath catches. The alpha’s eyes are dark, filling with pupil, and Robin stares at him, knowing he's sealing his fate with every second, but he doesn't look away. Frederick comes onto the bed on his knees, and they don't need words, not in that instant. Every nerve in Robin's body tingles at his alpha presence. This feels right, but also very wrong.

Even though his body is seeking that missing puzzle piece, that one person who will fit into him as if he’s belonged with him forever… Robin submits to that alpha power without a word of command, rolling onto his hands and knees and tilting his hips. He's presenting, a distant, analytical part of him realizes. He never knew how good it would feel, how right. All embarrassment was burned out of him hours ago, and he just wants someone to fill this emptiness inside.

“Please,” he groans.

Frederick touches his back, and Robin arches up into it, tossing his head up and gasping. He’s been without this touch for too long, the alpha dominance making him burn hotter.

A sharp inhale of breath from Frederick is all the notice he gets before the bed shifts, and a heavy body, still fully clothed, is pressed against him. Strong legs and arms box him in, that muscular torso draped on top of him. He can feel the erection against his backside through the clothing, and he leans back into it. A whine bursts from his throat, impatient, needy. That large body leans over him, a hand pressing against his back, deepening the submission until his chest is pressed into the bed. Hot breath brushes against his neck and he shudders with absolute delight.

“Please,” he gasps again.

Hands, calloused and rough from hours of training and lancework, run along his naked sides, and then fall still at his hips.

“Robin,” Frederick says, and Robin opens his eyes. It’s wrong, somehow - he was expecting another voice. “Are you absolutely certain you want this?”

“Yes.”

“What about Chrom?”

Chrom. The man who loves him. The alpha to his beta - no, his omega, now.

Robin’s alpha.

He opens his mouth, about to tell Frederick to go away, when the alpha unintentionally shifts. His erection presses against him, and Robin gasps, hands gripping the sheets. His body is singing with desire, it floods him like a tide, pushing thoughts of Chrom away, just wanting to be _filled._

“Please,” he says again, aching with emptiness inside. “Please, ah! Oh gods.” He shifts back and grinds against that erection.

His eyes roll back in his head at the pressure against his sensitive opening. Just a few layers of fabric lie between them. He _needs_ -

“Be still,” that deep voice, laced with power, sears through him, and he instantly stops. A nose and lips brush against his neck, drawing in soft sniffs. He sighs, trying not to shift back into the alpha that is _right there_ , his mouth inches from that spot on his neck...

And then that heavy delicious weight is removed. “I can’t do this, Robin,” Frederick says. “You smell like him. Even though you haven’t mated yet… you smell like Chrom’s mate. I won’t do this.” He removes his body from on top of Robin, and Robin flops onto his side.

Robin should feel thwarted, angry… but a smile is perched on his lips, and through the desire he feels relief. “Thank you,” he says, and Frederick grips his hand.

“You’ll get through this, Robin,” he says warmly. “Just a few more hours, I hope.”

Robin feels something, a passing frustration as he intuits what Frederick means… but then it’s gone, and he’s left with just gratitude. He slips a hand behind to insert his fingers, and there is no shame or embarrassment in him now, even as Frederick watches with hunger in his gaze. In this moment Robin is omega, and he has to do what he has to do to make it through.

He can hold out for Chrom.

~*~

It is late when Chrom rides into the courtyard in Ylisstol, his tired companions flagging behind him. They made good time back, but the ride was still much too long.

He dismounts, handing his horse’s reins to the waiting stable boy. The creature shifts away from him, agitated by the scent Chrom is putting off.

Without a backward glance, Chrom moves to find Robin. Thankfully, his erection had gone down as he started to ride, but he still can't run, much as he would prefer to.

“Chrom, wait a moment!” Lissa calls behind him, but he won't stop until he sees that Robin still breathes, until he holds the ailing beta in his arms. Oil lanterns burn against the night, flickering as he moves through the castle, his feet carrying him back to the hallway where Robin's room is located.

There's a strange, invigorating scent in the air as he approaches. Chrom draws a few quick sniffs, his legs moving faster, pulling him forward. He's so tired that he doesn't recognize that scent, although he should. Hushed voices float up the hall, and he speeds up again, his boots clicking on the tiles.

“...last for another day, at least.”

“I can't go back in there, Libra. I won't be able to resist again.” Chrom recognizes Frederick’s voice.

Are they talking about Robin?

Faintly, he hears Lissa calling for him from behind, but he ignores her. She is probably trying to help him, to prepare him for the worst, or maybe to remind him he's in rut. He's incredibly aware of his condition... but he needs to see Robin, make certain he's fine.

He rounds the corner. Libra and Frederick stand at Robin’s door, almost as if they are guarding it.

“Milord!” Frederick notices him at the distance. He strides toward Chrom, his mouth pressed into a grim line. “Good, you're here.”

“Why aren't you inside, tending to Robin?” Chrom demands of Libra.

Libra draws in a breath to speak, and then his eyes flash with surprise. He backs up against the door, eyes down. “You're in rut…”

If Chrom weren't so worried for Robin's safety, he might have questioned the beta’s lack of eloquence.

“Is Robin alright? Has his fever broken yet?” Chrom demands.

“Milord,” Frederick starts, reaching for his arm. “Did you get my message?”

Chrom shifts away, growing more and more agitated. “Don't touch me! I need to see Robin. _Get out of my way._ ”

Libra shivers, and moves aside, the alpha power overwhelming him. For a moment Frederick stands his ground, and then he bows his head.

Chrom throws the door open.

That scent hits him, and he rocks back onto his heels.

_Omega_ in heat.

His eyes flutter shut as that cloying smell calls to him. Distantly he hears Robin groan his name, and his dick grows hard at the way Robin’s voice seems to curl around it. Chrom meets Robin’s eyes across the room, and then finds himself standing beside the bed. He can’t recall if he closed the door, or if anyone else spoke to him. All his focus is on Robin, his mate.

His _omega_.

He’s not sick. Relief spreads through Chrom as he inspects Robin’s wonderful, sweaty body, barely aware that he’s never seen him naked before. All the self-restraint he’s called upon in the past day is unraveling, and he clings to it for a moment longer.

Robin has no such control. He reaches out and grips Chrom’s forearm, and pulls. Chrom ends up on his hands and knees above Robin’s body, and he growls at the assertiveness in his normally reserved tactician. Robin stares up at him, desire in his eyes, and his hot hands run along Chrom’s clothed body. He goes for the straps first, loosening them. The shoulder pauldron falls to the floor with a heavy thud, and Falchion joins it a few moments later. Even in his rut-clouded mind, Chrom has enough awareness to set the sacred blade on the floor.

Robin attacks the buttons at Chrom’s chest as soon as he can, opening the top two and then rising up to lick at Chrom’s collarbone. Chrom takes Robin’s face in his hands and drags him up to kiss him.

Robin's heat calls to Chrom's rut, omega to alpha, mates to one another, and when their mouths meet fireworks explode in Chrom’s mind. He slips his tongue between Robin’s teeth with a wanton growl.

Robin fumbles blindly with Chrom’s complicated outfit, whining and squirming with impatience.

Robin’s erection presses briefly against Chrom’s leg, and Chrom reaches down and palms it. Robin throws his head back with a gasp, hands tightening in Chrom's shirt to hold himself upright. The movement exposes his neck to Chrom. Robin's pulse beats quick beneath the skin, and Chrom presses his mouth and nose against it. He breathes deeply, and that heady scent sets his skin alight with sensitivity.

“Mine,” he growls into Robin’s neck, and his teeth scrape gently across the skin. He sweeps Robin’s hands aside and undoes the buttons on his own top. He’s worn this outfit for years, but it is strangely difficult to remove it. He draws back and peers down, struggling to undo the fasteners.

“Please, Chrom, please,” Robin whispers, raising his hips and rubbing his erection against Chrom’s inner thigh. “I need you.” Sensual warmth practically streams off of Robin. As the omega shifts, Chrom can smell a different scent, one that sets his own erection throbbing even more.

That scent means Robin is ready for him. He doesn’t know how he knows this, and he doesn’t much care where the knowledge comes from.

There’s a tearing sound, and he struggles out of his one sleeve, Robin tugging on the fabric as well. Chron feels like a creature coming out of a restrictive cocoon, his skin tingling where the fabric still touches it. Robin palms his bare torso as the top falls away.

Three more buttons, hastily undone, and Chrom's erection is free of his outfit and his smallclothes.

Robin whines when he sees it, reaching down, but Chrom moves before he can touch it. He takes hold of Robin’s hip and flips the omega onto his hands and knees. His fingers quickly move to Robin’s asshole, slipping inside against that initial resistance. With his other hand he tugs back on Robin's hip, impaling him on his fingers.

“Yes,” Robin hisses, dropping his head and panting. “Chrom, ahhh!”

A distant part of Chrom’s mind is trying to exercise caution, since this is their first time doing anything like this together, but when he feels Robin clenching tight and slick and hot around his fingers, he can't hold back any longer.

He pulls his fingers out and places the head of his dick at Robin's hole. This feels wild and animalistic, but it also feels so right.

“Chrom, yes, Chrom,” Robin chants his name like a prayer.

It's so warm and wet as Chrom takes hold of Robin's hips and thrusts slowly in. He catches a hint of pain threading through Robin’s voice, but Robin presses back when Chrom hesitates.

_How long has he been in heat?_  Concern for Robin fills him, staying his movement, even as the omega beneath him squirms with impatience.

Chrom slips a hand around Robin's torso and pulls him upright, onto his knees, the long span of his back pressed against the front of Chrom’s larger body. Chrom instinctively knows what to do.

“Mine,” Chrom hisses against Robin's neck, his mouth moving once more to that spot over his pulse, where his scent is the strongest. Robin tilts his head, a subconscious offering. Chrom bites with a little force, not enough to break skin.

Robin makes a little noise of relief and then goes still against him. His asshole is still tight around Chrom's cock, and his breath comes in little pants, but when Chrom continues his thrusting Robin lets him in.

The soft sounds Robin makes are all pleasure now, so Chrom keeps his teeth carefully pressed around that spot. Chrom flicks his hips up and deep inside, and in a few moments Chrom is buried within Robin, and can go no further. He pauses, releasing Robin’s neck and licking the sweat from his skin. Even his sweat tastes delicious, perfect.

Half-moon teeth imprints stand bold against Robin’s neck, and Chrom admires them.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Yes,” Robin whispers, still submissive from the bite. It has rendered him calm for the moment, although Chrom knows that hot desire still surges beneath his skin.

He is going to be the one that brings Robin, again and again, to meet that desire with his own ardour. To claim him. He rocks down and then back up into Robin, and slips his hand around Robin's dick.

One pump of Chrom’s hand is all it takes, and Robin comes screaming. His asshole tightens around Chrom and he throws his head back against Chrom’s shoulder. He’s beautiful, radiant, eyelashes fluttering with the pleasure. Warmth coats Chrom’s hand as he continues to work Robin through it. The orgasm lasts a long time, but there’s surprisingly little come, at least to Chrom’s reckoning.

Chrom lowers Robin to the bed when he’s done. The omega’s arms won’t hold his weight, so they end up on their sides, Chrom still deep inside.

Something about seeing Robin in pain had pulled Chrom’s focus from sex to comfort, but he can already feel the urge to pound Robin senseless returning. He is in rut, and Robin in heat… One orgasm is just the beginning.

For the moment, though, they are both satisfied, and Chrom cuddles Robin close.

“Robin,” he whispers over and over, rubbing his face against Robin’s hair. “Robin, I’m here.”

“Thank you.” Tears seep from Robin's dark eyes as he peers over his shoulder at Chrom. A surge of alpha dominance courses through Chrom as they lock gazes, and Chrom flexes his hips, shifting his dick inside of Robin.

Robin’s eyes lose their focus. It is Chrom’s turn to gasp as Robin clenches around him, and when they meet gazes once more, desire sparks between them.

“Chrom…”

“Robin.”

The brief respite is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally got my writing mojo back. :) I'm going to continue right into the next chapter, and I'm hoping to get this story completed by the beginning of April. Thank you to everyone for your support and your patience! 
> 
> I wanted to touch on Lissa's decision to lie to Chrom - it's not a decision she made lightly, despite how it might have seemed to Chrom. She was concerned for Chrom's well-being and aggressiveness, if he knew that Robin was actually in heat. I'll address it a bit later. (And Olivia did come back and visit with Robin... I'm just not showing it because Robin isn't really aware of her presence.)
> 
> If there's anything that doesn't make sense or you'd like clarification on, please let me know. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some wonky formatting around the italics in this one and i've been ripping my hair out trying to fix it. My apologies for the errors... I have a difficult time catching them all.

Chapter 7

The orgasm, the first one he's had since this ordeal started, burns through him, layers of fire one after another. With Chrom's hand on his dick, his alpha’s cock in his ass, Robin’s body fills with light and overflows. When he comes back, his limbs feel weightless, and Chrom is murmuring soft things in his ear. Vaguely, he’s aware of leather and fabric behind him - Chrom is still wearing his boots and pants.

Robin turns, and his neck throbs pleasantly. Chrom… bit him, he remembers through the haze of pleasure that still lingers on. His delicate fingers brush at the heated skin.

“Thank you,” he says, voice raw and husky.

Tears slip from his eyes, built up after that incredible release, and he reaches out to touch Chrom's face, to make sure he's actually here, and this is not an illusion.

But Chrom shifts before he can touch him, and he's very aware of the hard dick still buried inside of him. If this is an illusion, it is not one he wants to break. He’s been craving this for so long.

A tendril of desire loops into his groin, bringing Robin's dick back to somewhat painful attention. He tightens around Chrom's cock with a little gasp, and Chrom groans. His voice is loud and vibrates through Robin’s body.

They whisper each others’ names, and then Chrom rolls Robin flat onto his stomach. He thrusts in, and Robin can't stop the brazen noises he makes as Chrom does so. It feels incredible, satisfying the urge that has consumed him. Chrom crowds Robin in this time, his limbs surrounding Robin. With every thrust he seems to get deeper into Robin, to fill up those spots that Robin's fingers couldn't reach.

“Chrom,” he gasps, when Chrom changes the angle again, and sweeps past the sensitive spot inside. His whole body tingles, heat and light and that alpha scent sinking into his skin, burrowing into his core. Robin trails off into senseless keening, his hands gripping the rumpled sheets beneath him, and then Chrom bites his shoulder.

The possessiveness of that bite, combined with the pain and pleasure and the friction, shoves him into another orgasm. He shudders beneath Chrom, moaning, as the alpha rides it out, relentlessly pounding into him, the brush of skin and fingers tethering him to his body this time.

Robin’s ass clenches tight around Chrom, lubrication flowing freely, providing just the right amount of friction and movement.

As the blissful sensations fade, Robin becomes aware of a change in Chrom's body.

The knot. He’s starting to feel it, expanding at the base of Chrom’s erection. A fresh wave of heat runs through him as it drags in and out. The whole point of being in heat is to attract an alpha to him - for someone to mate him. When full, Chrom’s knot will lock them together, sealing Chrom's come inside of him.

In that moment, as he senses it growing, he needs it inside.

Chrom slows his pace, sensing the pressure on Robin’s asshole as the knot stretches him.

“Chrom, please-” He’s not sure if Chrom can even understand or hear him, because his voice is so rough, but the alpha renews his vigorous thrusting. His body hovers close over Robin’s, keeping him trapped against the bed. It’s comforting and secure, this heavy weight against him, telling his near-frantic omega brain that Chrom is with him.

Even with all of Robin's lubrication there comes a point when the knot is too large, and it starts to hurt. Robin gasps sharply and tries to pull away, whining as he is denied that thing his body wants the most. He  _needs_ to be knotted and filled, but the pain is getting in the way. Tears burn in his eyes as he cries out.

Chrom takes hold of his shoulder, holding him still. His hot breath races across Robin’s neck, ruffling his hair. Over his shoulder, Chrom’s eyes are mostly pupil, filled with alpha.

Robin is completely overwhelmed when Chrom noses into his neck and bites him again, sinking teeth around his pulse. There should be pain, but instead he only feels blissful awareness, and relief.

Chrom's knot pushes into him so he's deliciously full, the resistance giving way as his body goes pliant beneath Chrom's dominance. Two more thrusts and Chrom can't pull out anymore. He gives three short rocks of his hips, Robin whining breathlessly because it just feels so good, so full.

Chrom releases his neck to moan, caught in the throes of his orgasm. Robin comes down from that bite-induced high slowly, aware of Chrom's eyelashes fluttering against his shoulder, the tight grip on his shoulder and hip, the twitching as Chrom comes into his ass. The sensation satisfies a carnal urge, the desire that he's been feeling for much too long. With Chrom's dick inside he feels whole, and loved… and bred. That terrible need he's been rushing toward is finally - _finally_ \- satisfied.

He raises a hand and touches Chrom's hair. Chrom presses soft kisses along his tender shoulder, up to his neck, and Robin ducks from the tickle with a little laugh. They are knotted together, and Robin finally feels sane again.

“I… love you,” Chrom breathes into his skin, between pants.

“I love you,” Robin gasps back.

“You're so wonderful, Robin.” Chrom tilts his head from Robin’s shoulder and raises hazy blue eyes to Robin’s, and then twines their fingers together. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Robin shakes his head.

“I returned as soon as I could,” Chrom explains slowly, rocking them onto their sides and rearranging Robin so that every part of his body is touching Chrom's. The heavy-weight fabric at his calves reminds him that Chrom has yet to remove his pants. “I wouldn’t have left if I’d known.”

“You’re here now,” Robin replies. He lets Chrom move him around like a ragdoll, content with the simple touch of his alpha.

Chrom nuzzles against Robin's hair when he’s satisfied with their positions, sighing with pleasure. Chrom's knot will come down soon, enough that he could slip out... but for the moment he is deep inside Robin and the omega can't escape. Not that Robin wants to.

Robin shifts his hips, sighing as he presses Chrom's cock deeper, and Chrom nips at his nape. “Relax,” he says, petting Robin's sweat-dampened hair. “There's plenty of time for that later.”

Chrom's gentle order reminds Robin of how exhausted he is. He has no idea how long it’s been, but he knows he hasn’t slept more than ten minutes at a time since his heat started. With Chrom curled around him and inside of him, feeling safe and loved, Robin closes his eyes.

He wakes what feels like mere seconds later, missing the warmth and comfort of Chrom’s body. Robin rolls onto his back and lets out a soft sound of protest, which Chrom cuts off with a kiss. The brush of Chrom's mouth makes him aware of the desire building once more, and he draws Chrom to him as his body warms.

Chrom slips his hips between Robin’s legs, pressing him to the bed and holding their bodies together. The rest of Chrom’s clothing is finally gone, and Robin slips a hand around to cup at Chrom’s flat, perfect ass.

Chrom smells intoxicating, that slightly woodsy scent shooting like an arrow into Robin’s core. Robin slides his cheek along Chrom’s, breathing in deep, body thrumming with desire which feels similar and yet different. It feels… manageable, with Chrom right here beside him, his cock already at attention and standing heavy and proud against Robin’s inner thigh.

Robin hums with pleasure as Chrom catches his wrists and pins his arms above his head. His blue eyes, so close, fill with pupil as he looks down Robin’s body. Robin arches against him, needing more contact, twisting his wrists in Chrom’s hold.

“Please,” he groans, unable to articulate that need burning in his skin.

When Chrom’s erection pokes at his ass, he spreads his legs a bit further. Chrom presses in and Robin gasps, tightening around his lover’s cock because it just feels so good.

“Shh,” Chrom whispers, kissing his neck, right beside that spot. Robin relaxes as the sweet ache floods his body with a mild version of the bite. A groan escapes, equally delighted and turned-on. Chrom’s hips spread Robin’s thighs apart as he moves in further.

Chrom releases his wrists when his cock is buried inside Robin, and Robin’s freed hands fly to Chrom’s shoulders, running down the powerful muscles of his upper arm. Robin surges up and kisses Chrom, their tongues darting hungrily against one another. Chrom falls into a noisy rhythm with his hips, the slap of skin punctuated by gasps and moans, panted breath against heated skin.

Robin’s mouth trails down Chrom’s jaw, nosing into his neck until he finds a spot where Chrom’s pulse beats hot and open and vulnerable.

“Mine,” he growls, his lips parting and teeth brushing against the skin. Chrom’s rhythm falters and he trembles.

“Yes,” Chrom groans, swallowing beneath Robin’s teeth. “ _Bite me_.”

Robin doesn’t need to be told twice. He bites gently around that rapid pulse, and Chrom makes a happy, strangled sound. A hand snakes around Robin’s head, holding him in place. The taste of alpha floods his mouth, sinks down his throat like liquid fire. He squirms, unable to contain the excitement, and Chrom’s other hand clamps around his left knee, holding his leg trapped against Chrom’s ribs.

Robin releases Chrom’s neck and brushes his fingers along the imprints his teeth left. “Mine,” he says again, filled with possessive energy.

He looks up and meets Chrom’s suddenly-alert gaze. Chrom smiles, proudly. The intensity between them grows, and he can’t look away.

Chrom slips a hand down to Robin’s dick, gripping it tight and firm. Robin wants to toss his head back, but he can’t - he’s held in place by Chrom’s eyes. The alpha swirls his hips and changes the pressure inside of Robin. A little gasp squeaks from Robin's tight throat. The magical sensations in his body slow, retreating like a wave returning to the ocean.

“Mine,” Chrom hisses, and slowly lowers his head. His hand moves on Robin’s cock, forcing a rough, brazen sound from Robin’s lips. Robin is barely aware of the orgasm mounting inside of him, all his essence focused on Chrom’s beautiful blue eyes, until Chrom drops to his pulse, lips brushing against it. The pressure in his ass lessens as Chrom withdraws almost completely, and then Chrom bites down and thrusts deep inside simultaneously.

Robin comes on his own stomach and into Chrom’s hand, the orgasm melting him away, Chrom’s teeth keeping him close. He feels his nails digging into Chrom's skin, hears his own voice groaning, Chrom’s knot swelling as Robin tightens around it.

After Chrom has knotted him for a second time, they lay still and quiet together, utterly spent. Chrom rests his chest on Robin’s, barely held upright by his sagging elbows. Chrom's head is next to him on the pillow, breathing slow. Robin assumes Chrom brought the pillow over for their mutual comfort, because it hadn’t been there before. Chrom’s knot slowly lessens inside of him as he relaxes.

He wants to sleep, but his mind is stirring. In the temporary satisfaction of his heat, snippets of unwelcome, embarrassing memories from the past few days return to Robin. Impaling himself on his fingers with Libra present, Olivia’s kind assistance and the soothing touch of her skin, _Frederick_ hovering over him, Robin begging for him to take away the agony _…_

Robin shivers. Chrom instantly senses his discomfort, rousing and studying Robin with sharp eyes. “Are you cold? Am I hurting you?”

Robin stares at him, the memory filling him with remorse that he knows is seeping into his eyes. “I almost… if you had arrived much later...” he whispers, and turns his face from Chrom. “I asked Frederick to help me.” They’re still knotted together, so he can’t roll away from Chrom, but he suddenly wants to. He doesn’t want Chrom to see this internal turmoil.

Chrom grips his chin and mercilessly forces Robin to look at him. There is no hatred in his eyes; rather, a smoldering possessiveness that makes Robin’s insides ache for a different reason.

“How long have you been in heat?” Chrom asks instead, his fingers hard against Robin’s jaw.

“Two days?” Robin ventures, voice rough.

Chrom’s eyes narrow. “He didn’t do it.”

“He said no… but I still asked.” Robin can’t look at him anymore. He closes his eyes, feeling the hot prickle of tears in the corners. “I would have let him-”

Chrom cuts him off, stops Robin from continuing. “Look at me.”

Unwillingly, Robin does as he commands, his asshole tightening around Chrom’s cock in near-automatic response to the alpha in his tone. He holds his breath and stares at Chrom as he speaks. Chrom’s fingers loosen and rub against his jaw, trail down to the bite marks.

“You are an omega in heat. Of course you would have. There’s no shame in it. Even if he had done it… I would be angry - _furious_.” Chrom growls wordlessly, and thrusts his hips, pressing his cock deeper inside Robin. Robin gasps at the pressure, at the reminder that it is Chrom who has mated Robin, and not Frederick. “But I would still love you, and that wouldn’t have changed.”

Robin’s mouth quivers, and Chrom kisses him, soft and sweet, nothing like their passionate heat-fueled embrace from earlier.

“You’re mine, now,” Chrom whispers, his eyes snapping with intensity, “And I don’t plan on ever missing another of your heats.” His hand rubs soft circles on Robin's hair, the touch reassuring Robin that Chrom truly means what he says.

As Chrom rests his head back on the pillow, turning so his breath is hot against Robin’s neck, Robin relaxes into that embrace. If it was anyone else in his situation, he wants to think he would accept it. And Chrom was right, nothing had happened. Still, the thought that he had wanted someone else to mate him is a little hard to take, now that he's not out of his mind with desire.

Chrom’s fingers are gentle and soothing against his scalp.

“Robin,” he murmurs into Robin’s ear. Chrom knows him… knows that he’s still thinking about it. One of Chrom’s eyes is open and staring expectantly at Robin. “Go to sleep.”

Robin can’t help but submit to his alpha - his mate. He curls his arm around Chrom's naked torso, tugging him closer, and obeys.

~*~

Robin rouses some unknown time later with fire in his veins. Chrom is there again and again to soothe it, or to stoke it with his own urgency. There's something in Chrom's skin that urges Robin to new highs, as if he's somehow caught Robin's heat and burns with it too. Robin learns that Chrom is also in rut, which explains those times when the only communication they can offer each other is the press and touch of their bodies and mouths on one another’s skin.

In between, they talk, mostly brief, exhausted conversations, and Chrom makes Robin eat and drink. Food keeps appearing at their side, as if by magic.

The cycle continues until Robin senses the intervals between are growing longer. He's not as hot as he was, and Chrom seems to be slowing down, as well.

“It’s ending,” Chrom whispers, lying on his back. Robin grunts softly in agreement. He is tucked against Chrom’s side, running fingernails along his chest, circling one nipple almost absently. The marks from Robin’s teeth hover on the side of that neck stretched before him, and Robin slides up to kiss them, extracting a groan from Chrom that shoots straight to his tired groin. The now-familiar scent of his lubrication rises up around them.

With strong, sure hands, Chrom pulls Robin up to straddle his stomach. Robin nibbles at the marks, fingers angling Chrom’s head to get optimal access. If this is to be their last round, he wants to cement their mating, to show everyone that Chrom is his, and he is Chrom’s.  

Chrom positions their hips and Robin lets out a soft whine at the press of the erection behind him. He’s not producing as much lubrication as before, but there is still more than enough. Robin licks up Chrom’s neck, and Chrom moans and thrusts inside. Robin rocks back, feeling that length sliding inside of him. He teases at Chrom’s neck with lips and tongue until the alpha’s hands tighten, holding him still.

“Bite me,” he growls, the vibration pleasant against Robin’s tongue, “Or I’m biting you _right now_.”

Robin shudders, and obeys, sinking his teeth into the flesh, never enough to break the skin. They are both sore there, but Chrom still groans with delight. After a brief pause, Robin pulls back to inspect his marks. He looks up at Chrom, a challenge running through his smile, and then sneaks down to tongue his neck once more.

A frustrated growl is all the warning he gets before Chrom flips him. He captures Robin’s hands, pressing them into the bed near his shoulders, and slams in as deep as he can go. Robin throws his head back with a gasp, presenting his neck to his alpha.

When Chrom bites him, that euphoric ease fills his limbs. He feels something click into place deep inside of him, somewhere not even Chrom’s hard thrusts can reach. It feels… like home, there beneath Chrom's body, surrounded by their mingled scents. Chrom releases his neck and kisses him, and Robin parts his lips, letting Chrom take him in every way he can.

In the back of his mind, he doesn't want this heat to end, but Chrom had said he loved him even before his heat. Chrom will be there when they awake next, tired and satisfied, and ready to take on the rest of the world again…

Together.

~*~

Chrom sits upright beside the still-sleeping Robin, basking in the lingering emotions from their combined heat and rut. Robin lies with his back pressed against Chrom’s side, and the room is still and quiet.

By his very fuzzy reckoning, Chrom guesses that Robin’s heat lasted for almost five days, and he'd been with him for nearly three of those. Three days of almost senseless… _fucking_. He can't call it anything else, not with how urgently he mated Robin, again and again. It was a long heat, but not a concerning length, given that Robin’s omega behavior had been dormant until now. His body aches, including certain intimate parts, but it's a satisfied kind of ache.

Part of Chrom is having a difficult time reconciling what happened. He’d left Robin here a beta, but now he is an omega, and Chrom's mate in truth. When Chrom focuses, he can feel the bond between them, almost like an extension of his other senses. Delicately, so as not to wake Robin, he runs a finger across the red marks at Robin’s throat - their mate marks. A wave of thrilling possessiveness overtakes him. _He_ put those marks there; _he_ claimed Robin as his mate, and Robin claimed him.

He had no idea how wonderful it would feel, to slake his rut with a willing omega beneath him, begging him for it. Chrom had never been with anyone during his own ruts, although he was no virgin. His other, few dalliances had been minor, discrete things, and all over well before he met Robin. His campaign against Plegia and the Risen had taken up so much of his time, and he had no energy most days to even seek out someone to be with him.

But this, with his _mate_ \- this had been like a bonfire compared to those few flickering candleflames. He shivers with delight, and has to touch Robin again. The memory of Robin squirming beneath his hands as he held him down burns into his mind, but even that can’t rouse his cock.

Chrom pets Robin's bare shoulder and then pulls the blankets up over him. His skin no longer feels hot to the touch. Robin makes a soft nose and wraps Chrom's arm around him, nuzzling into his elbow.

There's a knock at the door, and Chrom growls.

“Enter,” he calls, softly. If anyone wakes Robin, he's going to be angry. Robin deserves all the sleep he can get.

Lissa pokes her head inside the room, a tray of food in her hands. “Can I talk with you for a moment?” she asks, softly. Someone must have told her Robin’s heat was over - nobody would let Chrom’s sister in the room otherwise.

He nods, and she comes closer. A beam of sunlight glances through the window and across her face as she approaches. She peers down at Robin for a moment, setting the tray on the nightstand. The urgency in her face eases away temporarily.

“How is he?”

“Recovering.” Chrom can’t help the little smile that softens his features as he looks down at Robin, brushing his fingers across his cheek. This swell of emotions bursting from his chest is partially caused by Robin’s scent - the smell of content omega. There’s more than one reason that alphas and betas alike are so protective of omegas. They have the tendency to bring people together, to calm tempers and to resolve differences. “We’ll be fine,” he continues, glancing up at Lissa.

“Good,” she responds, and sounds like she means it. She shifts from foot to foot for a moment, and Chrom knows exactly what she wants to speak about, but he waits patiently for her to work up the courage.

“Chrom, I’m sorry for lying,” she blurts out finally, her eyebrows scrunching together.

"Thank you." Chrom nods. “I’ve been thinking about it. You could have handled it differently… but I’m not mad that you lied about Robin’s condition.”

Lissa’s shoulders slump with relief.

He continues, “I was acting very erratically, and if I’d known Robin was in heat, surrounded by people who weren’t me…” He shudders as he thinks about what could have happened, and Robin stirs, reacting to Chrom’s discomfort.

Chrom freezes as Robin blinks his eyes open. He seeks out Chrom’s face first, craning his neck and then gasping as the position stretches the sore marks. Robin rolls toward Chrom and presses his chest against Chrom's thigh, a bright smile stretching his features. Chrom can’t help but return that expression - it is nearly contagious.

Even though moments ago he had been worried about waking him, now that Robin is awake he finds himself glad of it.

The blanket falls away as the omega moves, and Lissa gives a little gasp as rather more of Chrom's torso is exposed than she probably wants to see. Robin turns back instantly, a tremor of fear running through his body. He hadn't noticed anyone else in the room, completely enamored with Chrom's touch and presence. Chrom catches the sheet before it slides completely away, a blush darting across his cheeks at his tactician’s lack of awareness. They are both still very naked.

Robin chuckles with mortified relief when he sees Lissa, and Chrom brushes at Robin’s hair, unable to keep from touching him.

“Hi, Lissa,” Robin greets.

Her face is bright red and she looks down at the tray she brought. “Hi, Robin. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You didn't,” he says, and rises to sit beside Chrom, adjusting the blankets carefully. He peers back at Chrom with narrowed eyes. “Were you going to let me sleep all day?”

“Yes,” Chrom growls. The question miffs him, as well as the implied assumption that Chrom was allowing laziness. “As long as you needed. You've been through an ordeal.”

Robin's eyes hold some dark promise. “An ‘ordeal’ I'd be happy to endure with you, again.” He winces as he shifts his legs, and Chrom remembers exactly how tight and delicious Robin had felt, impaled on his cock. “But… maybe not right away.”

“No, not right away,” Chrom agrees, and then looks back to Lissa. She looks a little as if she regrets coming in here, and for a moment Chrom feels bad for her. “Like I was saying, I can tell you were just trying to help.” Now Chrom’s gaze darkens. “As long as you didn’t have me continue on to Plegia.”

Robin goes still beside Chrom. “Plegia?” he breathes, his eyes distant. “That’s right. You were going to attend the coronation, until...”

Chrom sweeps in and takes Robin’s hand, squeezing until Robin’s dark eyes focus on his face. He sees that frustration, the self-blame apparent on Robin's face. “I was in rut, anyway, when we heard about you. I couldn’t go on to Plegia like that.”

Robin bites his bottom lip, unconvinced. “But…”

“You didn’t see what he was like,” Lissa provides. “He punched Vaike.”

Chrom’s face burns as Robin turns to him, surprise and amusement cutting through the guilt. “You did?”

Lissa giggles. “He did. It was horrible at the time, but…”

Chrom is grateful that Lissa is distracting Robin from thinking about Plegia, but he wishes it were another topic.

“I should probably apologize to Vaike,” Chrom mutters, as Robin grins.

The tension between himself and Lissa is nearly gone when she departs. She hugs Robin hard, and has to blink back tears as she says, “Welcome to the family.”

She can smell that they are mated. Their scents have mingled together, meshing so that anyone who scents one will smell the other too. It is partly from sharing Robin's heat, and partly because they are mated in truth.

After Lissa leaves, they sit side by side for a few minutes, Robin resting his head on Chrom's shoulder. He can't tell what he's thinking, but Chrom knows something is stirring beneath Robin's calm appearance.

“She called me family,” Robin says eventually, looking down at their entwined hands. His voice is soft and trails up at the end, as if he can't really believe it. “What should we do about this?” He gestures between them.

“You're my mate,” Chrom says instantly, shrugging. He wouldn't change that for anything.

“But the Council!” It is a testament to how exhausted Robin had been before his heat, that he is only now thinking about this. That night before Chrom left, he had accepted Chrom's love without thinking about the Council.

“We're mated,” Chrom says, wrapping an arm around his bare shoulder and brushing his fingers along the marks. Robin shivers, his eyes going distant for a moment, his mouth set in a straight line.

A painful thought races across Chrom's mind, and his stomach flips. “You don't want to… dissolve it, right?”

“No!” Robin's response is instant, his eyes flying open. “No, of course not. I _love_ you.”

He sounds scared, but his quick response sets Chrom's fears aside. As long as Robin is with him, they will figure it out.

“Then… we'll just have to tell them about it. They will understand.”

Robin's frown deepens, and Chrom realizes that his tactician is at a loss for what to do. It’s rare, but he finds this oddly charming. Robin can't see the straight path forward, so his mind is already moving toward more complex solutions.  
But to Chrom, it’s never been clearer.

He smiles, trying to project all the confidence he feels into his mate. “Don't worry, Robin. We can convince them. They don't have the authority to make us dissolve the bond.”

With a significant effort, Robin relaxes. Chrom can tell how hard it is for him to believe Chrom's words… but he wants this to work out as much as Chrom does.

“I trust you,” he whispers at last, glancing up from beneath his eyelashes. “And I don't want to give you up, even if the Council doesn't like it.”

Chrom leans in and kisses him, his heart beating hard in his chest at Robin’s declaration. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to post a short Epilogue in a day or two. 
> 
> If you’re interested in reading more set in this omegaverse (mostly one-shots), I’ve set this up as a series to  
> post the others under. My ideas for the future include: a scene showing what-if Frederick had agreed to  
> help Robin, the incident at the Midmire where Chrom was nearly overcome with grief, and other things.  
> If you wanted to see these other pieces I’ll be posting them under the series, and I believe you can  
> subscribe to it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! This has been a lot of fun. If there’s anything you’d like to learn more about, or you would like me to explore in another one-shot, please let me know. Otherwise, I'll see you in the Epilogue. Thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue _(One month later)_

Robin waits in the wings behind the royal blue curtains, and runs his hand nervously down the velvet. A chill breeze blows in from beyond the curtains, parting to allow a patch of brilliant sunlight to fall at his feet. His outfit, set in blue and gold to compliment Chrom’s, feels strange and crisp in all the wrong places, but it fits the occasion and his new position. 

Royal consort. 

His new title. 

Robin smiles nervously as he remembers how he and Chrom had argued over the title, in private - how Chrom had addressed every one of his points and fears, and eventually kissed him into silence when the alpha knew he had won. 

It had taken more time than Chrom thought, and less time than Robin had anticipated, to convince the Council to give their union the blessing. 

In the end it wasn't that they protested Chrom mating with Robin. Like most of the rest of Ylisstol, they held Robin in high regard, and didn't mind that he was male, or suddenly omega. He'd proven that he could handle even the most ornery of alphas through his adept managing of the Shepherds. 

What they worried about was the loss of Chrom's bachelor status as a bargaining tool. 

Chrom had argued that point into non-existence. The new king of Plegia had no known children, and no nieces or nephews of marrying age, so there was no way to cement the tenuous truce with marriage. Plegia had sent a disapproving message about Chrom’s absence at the coronation, but there had been no additional threats or messages sent. The Councilors were cautiously optimistic that Plegia was in no position to go back to war over the slight. Many of their troops had defected to Ylisse after Emmeryn’s death, and more had protested the hostile take-over of Ylisstol. 

Their allies in Ferox valued their strength more than their ability to make political ties, and there had been no contact with Valm or Chon'sin in decades. Rumor had it there was in-fighting between the city-states across the sea, and all accounts said it would take years before civil peace was attained.

Eventually, Chrom had put his foot down, and stated that there was no good reason he and Robin couldn't be mated in the eyes of the kingdom. He'd even suggested that in lieu of an exalted coronation, they would throw a celebration of their bond… and name Robin his consort. 

Chrom had been right - the Council couldn’t force them to dissolve the bond. Eventually they had all backed the idea.

So here Robin stands, waiting behind the curtains as Chrom gives his prepared speech. 

The cheers beyond the curtain surge, and Robin’s hand tightens in the fabric for an instant. In the next moment, he draws in a deep breath, and sets his shoulders back. Today more than ever, he needs to stand tall and confident, even if he doesn’t feel that way inside. 

He glances to Frederick, standing in full armor beside him, and the knight returns his attentive gaze for a moment. There’s been a distance between them since Robin’s heat, as if they are both too aware of what might have happened. 

“Frederick?” Robin says, when the silence grows too uncomfortable between them. 

“Yes?” 

“Have you been avoiding me?” 

Frederick tenses up, his hand tightening on the shining silver lance. “Yes.” 

Robin grimaces, feeling a little uneasy all of a sudden. He’d never meant to upset Frederick, and yet here they are. He rubs at his stomach for a moment.

Frederick continues, “I thought you would be cross with me, because I went against your wishes and sent a message to Chrom.” 

Robin blinks at him. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “I’m not mad. Bringing Chrom home was the best thing you could have done for me.” 

Frederick’s eyebrows rise, and he tilts his head at Robin. “You’re truly not upset?”

“Of course not,” Robin says. “I was in heat, and not thinking clearly.” 

“I know,” Frederick responds quickly, and then flushes, red darting across his cheeks. Robin sucks in a breath, realizing that he’s unintentionally reminded the knight of what nearly happened between them. Frederick’s alpha scent rises, very faint, and Robin recalls the promise in Frederick’s eye when he first scented Robin’s heat.  _ I’d forgotten how… fascinating they are to me _ , he'd said. 

Frederick looks away, and Chrom’s voice flutters in between the curtains. Robin catches a phrase, and notes that Chrom still has a ways to go - there is enough time to say what needs to be said between them. He contemplates the best way to broach the awkwardness, while Frederick is his captive audience. The knight would never abandon his post in the middle of an assignment, no matter how uncomfortable Robin makes him feel. 

“Frederick… thank you, for making the decision when I could not.” 

The knight shifts, his discomfort readily apparent. “I had… hoped you wouldn’t remember that. If you want me to resign, I will.” 

“Resign? No!” The suggestion sends cold shooting up his spine. Frederick has been Chrom’s knight for years. Robin can’t imagine the Shepherds without Frederick coordinating all of the menial tasks, a Council meeting without Frederick’s reassuring presence behind them. He steps closer, meeting Frederick’s eyes with what he hopes is a calm determination. “Of course I don't wish you to resign. I was in agony, and you were trying to help me.” 

Frederick relaxes. “That’s what Chrom said,” he mutters, almost to himself, and then his gaze sharpens. “I… Thank you, milord.” 

Robin flinches at the formality of the title. “Please, don’t call me that. It’s just Robin, as it has always been between us.” 

The knight smiles. “As you wish, Robin.”

It is still a little awkward, but at least now Robin feels the distance between them has been breached. Frederick turns his attention back to the door behind them, and he seems more at ease. 

With nothing else to distract Robin, he focuses on Chrom speaking, and he is forced to think about the thing he’s been dreading. 

The crowds still frighten him, and all of Chrom’s encouragements cannot change that. After all this time by Chrom’s side as his tactician, Robin is afraid of becoming his consort, and all it implies. He isn’t meant for the spotlight.

“...It is with pride that I present my tactician, my best friend… and my Royal Consort.”

That’s his cue, and yet he stands still. 

Robin draws a deep breath, a fine trembling building in his limbs. Suddenly, Frederick is behind him, giving him a little nudge forward. Robin takes hold of the curtains and glances back. 

Frederick is smiling. “Go on,” he says. “Don’t keep him waiting.” 

Robin slips the velvet aside and steps out onto the balcony beside Chrom. The sunlight blinds him for a moment, but Chrom takes his hand, drawing him forward. The crowd cheers as they step up to the heavy stone railing, but Robin stares into Chrom’s wide blue eyes. 

If he looks at the Ylisseans, he might panic.

Chrom’s hand is sweaty in his own, and Robin clings to him for a moment. His whole body feels warmer than it did five minutes ago, and he doesn’t notice the chill wind that catches his cloak, tosses his hair around his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Chrom whispers, cupping his cheek. 

Robin tilts his head, and to his relief Chrom kisses him softly. It’s just a hint of the passion between them, but it reminds Robin of why he’s really doing all this. 

“Yes, I’m good,” he says, and means it. Chrom smiles, and then turns and raises their clasped hands to the gathered masses. Applause erupts below them. 

Robin looks out at the people, and it hits him… all this cheering is for  _ them _ , for their bond - for their prince’s happiness. At this height, he can’t make out individual faces, but he knows most of the Shepherds are in the front. 

When he waves back, the cheering crescendoes. Maybe... he can get used to this. He looks at Chrom, radiant in his finest attire, blue and gold and cream, and his eyes get a little misty. 

“Come on, we’ve got a celebration to attend,” Chrom says, and tugs Robin with him. 

He  _ will  _ get used to this, all the pomp and council meetings and political pandering… to be by Chrom's side, always. 

Robin can’t imagine being anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! I wanted to wrap up the loose end with Frederick - I had the feeling he would feel as guilty as Robin for what nearly happened between them. I really hope you all enjoyed this little story.  
> If you're interested in more, I've set up Protected as a Series here on AO3, and I'm planning on writing some what-ifs and follow-up one offs. I've gotten some good ideas for additional scenes, but if there's anything you'd like to see or read more of, please leave me a comment and if it grabs my attention I might try and write it.   
> Thank you all for your overwhelming support. This is now my most popular fanfiction, by kudos, comments, and hit count... I'm really pleased and honored that you've enjoyed it, and I really appreciate you all letting me know!


End file.
